Glee Project: Live Out Loud!
by inkbender
Summary: Inspired by the Glee Project, follow Glee revamped with all the nuts and wrenches of 26 extra characters tossed into the hot mess of New Directions, Vocal Adrenaline, and the Dalton Warblers! TGP2 characters start ch 40. DISCONTINUED.
1. Audition I

The dark-haired boy looks down at the wrinkled sheet of paper held in his hands. Sounds of talking Americans with their sloppy accents leak through the glass door separating the office from the hallway. The secretary sitting at the desk busily types away, the clicking of her keys filling the entire room. She ignores him for at least a full minute before suddenly spotting him out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh! And who might you be?"

"Um… Damian, ma'am."

"Damian… I don't recognize a Damian…"

"I'm, uh, the transfer student," he offers, and his obvious Irish accent reminded the secretary of his identity.

"Oh yes! Just moved here, right? How are you liking America?" The secretary enunciates all her words clearly and slowly, as if speaking to a foreigner. Well, a non-English speaking foreigner. Like from Mexico or Japan.

"Ohio is… flat, ma'am."

The rotund woman taps the nameplate in front of her desk. "You can just call me Donna."

"Yes ma'am."

Donna picks up her phone and dials. A couple words are exchanged, whereupon she puts the phone down and smiles brightly at Damian. "I've sent for another student to come pick you up and show around the school," she says. "She's the public relations officer of the International Club, and I'm sure you'll find her very nice."

Damian nods and spends the next couple minutes in awkward silence. His homeroom class reads _Rm 156- English, Elliott Engerson_. He scoffs to himself; Americans teaching English. Again, Damian wishes he could have gone to boarding school in England. He'd be able to see Troy and Ashley on weekends, and his father would be two hours away. Instead, his mother won custody of him and dragged him to America for a "new start."

Bells that hang on the glass door chime as a girl enters the office. Her clothes are bright and tight with an ethnic flair; her hair is carefully modeled into loose waves, and she smiles cheerfully at him. "Hello, my name's Marissa!"

Damian's eyes snap up from her clothing to her face. "I'm Damian."

Marissa hands him a small manila folder full of papers and a round green pin. "Put that on," she orders, indicating a similar pin on her shirt. "As an international student, this grants you immunity; but only as long as you have it on."

"Immunity? Immunity to what?"

Without replying, Marissa opens the door to the hallway and admits an onslaught of American-accented conversation to wash over him. "Welcome to McKinley High School!"

* * *

><p>"You sure you ain't from another world, short stuff?" the burly jock standing in his way sneers.<p>

Matheus tries to step around the obstacle, but more hockey players step in his way. At 4'9", attempting to pass the linemen opposing him seems impossible, but Matheus really doesn't want to get three-way-slushied by people towering a foot above him. "I'm from Brazil," he offers weakly. He'd moved here almost five years ago to see a doctor in Columbus, Ohio—a doctor who specialized in child growth. The prognosis? Matheus was genetically short. No strange, debilitating disease. Nothing in the water or the diet he maintained. The one and only reason he was short was just because he was.

The main hockey player in front smirks. "You don't have no international pin," he guffaws. "I think you're fair game." And with that, he drenches the short freshman with his cherry slushie. His friends laughs but thankfully don't join; they probably want to save their icy drinks for another new freshman. Wiping his glasses free of red icy crystals, Matheus stumbles for the nearest bathroom. Some people gasp and pity the sight of him, but hardly anybody steps in to help with directions.

"You okay, kid?" a voice questions in concern.

Matheus peers through the cherry syrup covering his glasses at the teenager standing in front of him: bleached blonde hair, a green polo shirt, and jeans. That's all he can make out. "Not really," Matheus laughs humorlessly. "Do you know where the bathroom is?"

"You're a freshman too?" the blonde guy asks. "I'm Sam… and I'm just as lost as you are."

"Matheus. I'd shake your hand, but…"

"Yeah, I get it. Here, I think that's a bathroom over there…" Sam takes off, Matheus following blindly. They pass Marissa and Damian on the way; Damian casts a shocked glance over the shorter boy before turning to Marissa. "What… happened with that guy?"

Marissa tugs her green pin twice. "That's what this is for!" she beams. "It wouldn't any good for international relations if all the students they sent over here were slushied and otherwise discouraged from ever showing their faces in America ever again, so the International Club lobbied for amnesty pins. As long as you keep that on for your first two months here, you can call detention on anybody who spills even a drop of Slushie on you. After that, though, you're on your own."

Damian pulls at his shirt collar nervously. "Slushied? That's common practice here?"

Marissa shoots a warning glare at a pack of oncoming cheerleaders, each sipping delicately from a large cup of summer drink. The alpha female eyes Marissa's and Damian's pins, then slides off to the side; the entire pack follows, and the two students avoid catastrophe. "See?" Marissa grins again. "Now, which classroom is your homeroom?"

* * *

><p>"This year's National Competition will be held in… New York!"<p>

The entire choir room goes absolutely wild. Kurt's so shocked that his mouth could catch flies, while Rachel squees so loudly that soon only dogs will be able to hear her. As is, Finn winces next to her, especially when she turns to him and begins to babble aimlessly. Mercedes grasps Kurt's unresponsive hand; Santana and Quinn immediately begin scheming plans, and even Brittany seems to know what's going on and has a happy face to match.

Mr. Schuester claps to get everybody's attention. "Alright, alright, guys. But seriously, this time we need to hit the competition hard. We've got the strength, the voices, the talent. We've got everything behind us already. The only thing we're lacking right now is power. We need to transition from the small rebel force we were last year to a giant wall of sound. We've got to go big on recruiting now. I need all of you to go into the school and search out those people with big voices amd natural talent. Plus, I talked to Figgins; we're going to do a number during lunch in two days: _Empire State of Mind_, by Jay-Z and Alicia Keys!"

Santana and Brittany give cheers of support; Puck grins and high-fives Mike.

Rachel takes the reins at this point, sliding smoothly to the front of the room and standing directly in front of Mr. Schuester. "Okay everybody!"

Everybody groans inwardly, but they look to her for general direction.

"Brittany and Mike: you guys get the choreography outline in 45 minutes! We need to get this down by the end of our time today so we have all of tomorrow to perfect the show. Kurt and Mercedes, I need you two on outfit coordination; something matching the hip hop style exhibited by the popular American culture. And of course, Finn and I will lead—"

"Aww, hell to the naw," Mercedes barks. "I'm sorry, Rachel, but I _am_ Alicia Keys. There is no way you're going to take on her style with that voice."

Rachel looks moderately miffed, but she acquiesces. "Then I will trust your better judgment, Mercedes."

Puck interrupts, "Me and my man Artie are in too. We got the flow."

William Schuester smiles as his Glee kids launch into the never-ending battle of musical arrangement and coordination. They all show so much potential, and he's _sure_ that they'll succeed. They can definitely make it to New York.

More people backing them up won't hurt, though.

* * *

><p><em>Cue Glee Project cast entrance! Well, at least, some of them...<em>

_This is a re-interpretation of the second season of Glee, only with all__ the Glee Project participants thrown in! __However, not everybody will appear in McKinley High School; I mean, it'd be strange if twelve musically-talented people suddenly popped into existence as freshmen or transfer students. So I plan to have five people at McKinley High (we already have Marissa, Damian, and Matheus), two guys as part of the Dalton Academy Warblers, two girls at Dalton's sister school, and three people in Vocal Adrenaline. (Truthfully, half the reason I've divvied up the characters is because it's hard to write for several people at once and get a continuous storyline.)_

_Let me just say that I just really wanted to get this idea down on paper before I lost it, but the only thing I know is that this is going to follow the (extremely disconnected) plot of the second season roughly, with all the nuts and bolts and wrenches of twelve extra characters and two other competitive show choirs tossed into the hot mess of Glee continuity! Other than that, I have no concrete plans for the direction of this story, so give me suggestions._

_Also, I plan on keeping most of the characters in line with their actual personalities as portrayed by the reality show __The Glee Project__. Not the character they want to portray themselves as (Most Likely to _) because that's what got Ellis eliminated: she was a sarcastic, mature individual in a young-looking body, yet, because everybody commented on her childlike looks, she portrayed herself as a kid BUT she actually was pretty mature. Meh, my opinion. But I'm going to try to draw along the lines of what the actual person through the lenses of my own interpretation (because that's what writers do, no?) _

_Tell me what you think! Who should be where? Any pairings particularly wanted? _


	2. Audition II

_**Featured songs:**  
><em>_"Empire State of Mind" by Jay-Z ft. Alicia Keys  
><em>_"Telephone" by Lady Gaga ft. Beyonce_

* * *

><p>On Wednesday afternoon, Marissa gathers all sixteen members of the International Club to eat lunch in the outdoor commons. The sun shines in a recently cleared blue sky and beams heat into all those who dressed warm for the previously cloudy morning. Damian pushes up the sleeves of his light zip-up hoodie and looks around uncertainly; all around him, people remain in tight-knit cliques, never breaking their boundaries. A stoned-looking guy in dreadlocks mopes with rebel friends in a dark corner. Football players with their letterman jackets laugh and throw spitballs at a study group two tables over.<p>

And the table he's currently sitting at: environmentally aware, nature-friendly individuals who approach all of life's problems from the far left side. Marissa also happens to be the president of the Environmental Club and has mashed both groups together for the time being.

Across from him sits a small Asian girl with a beret perched atop her round face. She extends her hand in greeting. "Hello, my name is Sunshine."

Damian completes the other half of the handshake. "Damian."

"Haha, I like your accent," Sunshine grins. "Um, let me guess… Scottish?"

"Eh, close. Irish. You're Filipino?"

Sunshine appears pleasantly surprised. "How did you guess?"

Damian takes on a wistful expression. "One of my friends back home was Vietnamese. He didn't like people calling him Filipino just because his skin was darker."

Sunshine picks up on his hinted nostalgia. "Will you not be able to see him again?"

Damian frowns. "Probably not. My mom finally found a job here."

"Well, that's good that she has a reliable income," Sunshine encourages. "My dad couldn't find work in America, so he's still back in the Philippines. It's just me and my mom and my sister here, and my mom works as a nanny for some rich couple who are always on business trips."

Damian and Sunshine continue to converse, exchanging backgrounds and family histories and cultural differences. Right when Sunshine's in the middle of narrating an unfortunate miscommunication between her mother and the grocer, however, a sudden cacophony of voices interrupts her.

Damian glances around the outdoor commons: the stone stairs, the tables scattered around, the caged stairwell leading towards the school—there's a brunette standing on top of a table three tables over, clearly enunciating the _baaa-bap-bap-baaa-baaa-bum-bum-bum_ beat echoing around the concrete commons from speakers. Another guy begins dancing between the tables, and suddenly at least six people in black attire are in motion, all singing the same song. There's someone in a wheelchair rapping, swinging his hands in gangster motions; then two more people come down the caged stairwell from the school, singing in harmony.

_In New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made,  
>Oh, there's nothing you can't do, now you're in New York<br>These streets will make you feel brand new, big lights will inspire you,  
>Let's hear it for New York, New York, New York…<em>

At one point, the brunette standing on top of the table glances over at Damian, and he immediately averts his eyes. No, he wasn't staring at her thighs exposed by her short black skirt. He then notices that Sunshine is singing along with the song, bobbing her head to the constant beat while silently mouthing the words.

Damian leans back to get Marissa's attention. "Who are they?" he shouts over the music.

Marissa swallows her mouthful of Pop-tart. "Them? Social suicide. Just ignore them."

A larger girl with a head of flaming orange hair leans over from the table next to them. "They're a show choir group called the Glee club. They've been putting posters around the school about their Nationals competition being in New York, hence the song." She wipes her hand on her jeans, then holds it out to him. "Hey, I'm Hannah. Are you new around here?"

"Damian. I just transferred from Ireland."

"Whoa! I love your accent! Say more words! Ahem… would you like some biscuits with your tea, sir?" Hannah drawls in an overworked English accent. Reverting back to her American accent again, she continues, "Anyways, the audition doesn't count. You do one, but it's just to evaluate you. I was thinking about signing up, but I want somebody to go with me."

Damian hesitates. _I just met you. _"Um…"

Sunshine waves from behind him. "Hi, I'm Sunshine! I'd love to audition with you two."

"Awesome!" Hannah squeals. "I'll go sign us up next time I walk past the poster board. Sunshine and Damian, right?"

"Wait…" Damian tries to speak, but Sunshine runs him over.

"That's us!" she chirps while pulling out her cell phone. "What's your number?"

Damian pulls out his phone, unsure of what just transpired.

_These streets will make you feel brand new, big lights will inspire you,  
>Let's hear it for New York, New York, New York…<em>

* * *

><p>For about two seconds, Hannah feels slightly guilty for dragging her two new friends into joining Glee with her. They've only been at McKinley High for three days and definitely wouldn't know about the firmly established social hierarchy that would harass them for just being in a singing club. Marissa's right; Glee club <em>is<em> social suicide. Marissa has a sweet R&B voice, one that she uses often in the less ostentatious, more invisible theater club; but if she joined Glee, even her amnesty pin wouldn't spare her from slushie attacks.

Damn amnesty pins. Marissa also acted as the student body's silvertongue (official title: public relations). The jocks respected her because she had several footholds in positions of power; she didn't actually sit in them, but she could pull the strings hard enough to heap coals on offenders' heads. So her protection extended to all international students, which is partially why the International Club was so large.

Anyways, Hannah consoles herself with the fact that, thanks to those amnesty pins, it was likely that the number of slushies headed Damian and Sunshine's way would be kept to a minimum; they could audition without fear of attack.

She's sitting in the bathroom during sixth period when an impromptu song duel goes down. It starts off like so:

"Oh, hello there!" Hannah could recognize Rachel's bright, sophisticated inflection anywhere. "I couldn't help but notice you admiring me during lunch in the courtyard."

"Uh… what?" That's Sunshine's hesitant, barely accented voice.

"Whoops, you don't speak English? Okay, You Like Me Sing. You Like Me Sing Very Much."

"Um, I can totally speak English—"

"I even did a little research on you during fifth period: you're a foreign exchange student named Sunshine Corazon because you're from the Philippines where it's always sunny!"

"…except for the monsoons—"

Hannah almost chuckles, but she bites back the noise.

"Listen, Sunshine," Rachel continues in her oblivious rant, "Our Glee club is in desperate need of chorus singers, people who will stand in the background and stare at me with moved, teary eyes as I shine brilliantly on center stage and showcase my amazing talent during solos! So I highly encourage you to audition for Glee club. Singing Harmony Is Very Fun! Swaying In Background Can Be Rewarding!"

"Thank you," Sunshine says tersely.

"Okay." A sheaf of papers drops to the floor and scatters, and Rachel stoops over to pick them up. At that point, a song buzzes on tinny speakers—probably Sunshine blasting music too loud on her iPod. After the first couple of words or so, Sunshine begins to sing the words aloud:

_Hello, hello, baby you called? I can't hear a thing,  
>Cuz I have got no service in the club, you see, see.<br>What-what-what did you say? Are you breaking up on me?  
>Sorry I cannot hear you; I'm kinda busy.<em>

Rachel's voice echoes Sunshine's line, and the duel is on. Hannah hears the competitive streak in Rachel break out as Sunshine belts each line back happily; both have incredibly powerful voices that echo around the bathroom tiles, and Hannah is awed at the power that such a small person can produce—

"SHUDDAP!"

Aaaand that would be Sue Sylvester crashing the party. Really, Hannah was just getting to enjoy the show from her private seat. Eh, no matter; but she's really going to have to pester Sunshine into dishing out more of that chest voice. Wow.

"Um," Sunshine says cheerfully, "That was pretty fun. I'd love to join your club! Where are auditions?"

Rachel seems to be at a loss for words. "Um… I don't have the address on me, so let me get back to you on that. …Don't tell anybody about this."

Hannah cleans up and exits her stall after Rachel leaves. Sunshine shoots Hannah a confused _What are you doing here?_ look. "That was amazing, Sunshine!" Hannah congratulates while washing her hands. "Where'd you pull that voice from? So huge for such a little person!"

Sunshine gives a timid grin. "I used to sing in the Philippines a lot. To raise money for my family."

"Well your momma taught you well," Hannah states. "You are going to kill at New York!"

* * *

><p>"You did this to me! You told Coach Sylvester about my summer surgery!"<p>

"You get a surgery when you get your appendix removed. _You_ got a boob job."

"Yep, sure did." Santana promptly slaps Quinn across the face. The sound of manicured hand meeting perfect face echoes down the crowded hall, drawing students like moths to a flame. Matheus and Sam are pushed by the current to the front lines.

Quinn's face burns in shock and anger. "You can't hit me!"

"Sure I can," the Latina sneers, getting in the blonde's face. "Unless you got yourself knocked up again, slut."

Quinn's pretty face erupts into a snarl as she shoves Santana roughly against the lockers. A collective gasp spills from the crowd as the two cheerleaders grapple around for a second; then Santana gets the upper hand, using Quinn's momentum to reverse their positions. Pushed roughly against the clanging metal surface, Quinn tries to get a handhold on Santana's clothing for leverage; but said boob job has stretched Santana's uniform to its limit and there are no loose folds of clothing for Quinn to grab onto. Quinn screams in frustration as she paws and scratches Santana's torso and Santana growls menacingly in return.

Sam's eyes are as wide as dinner plates. A blush creeps up his neck slowly when Santana digs her rounded fingernails into Quinn's soft shoulders and pitches her to the ground. He stops breathing completely as blonde tresses spill around Quinn's face, two feet away from Sam's feet. Matheus notices Sam's temporary paralysis and nudges his friend. Sam jerks back to reality and glances at Matheus sheepishly.

"Hey hey hey, what is this supposed to be?" the Spanish teacher, Mr. Schuester, yells. "We're a family!"

Santana fights against Mr. Schuester's restraining arm, her black ponytail bobbing around furiously. "She's already got a family, she's a moooother," she drawls before stalking off.

Quinn collapses against Mr. Schuester's other arm, screaming hoarse words that dissolve into broken emotion. Matheus pulls Sam away quickly while snapping a finger in front of his face. After a while, Sam responds.

"Dude, what's up with you?" Matheus hisses. "Keep a lid on it at least, everybody could see you—" Sam's not paying attention again; he's still looking over his shoulder at Quinn.

Matheus steps lightly around Sam's body so that he can wave a hand in Sam's face. "That's Quinn Fabray," he informs. "Ex-head cheerleader, though the rumor mill says that she recently got reappointed after ratting Santana out on her enhancements. So basically, that's the most popular girl in the school that you're crushing on."

Sam's eyes snap back down to Matheus with an indignant expression scrawled across his face. "What are you talking about?" he laughs agitatedly. "I'm not—" At Matheus' incredulous grin, though, his face wilts slightly. "What makes you think…"

Matheus pats him on the small of his back. "Whatever, man. Just make sure you're in a position of power if you don't want to be shot down." He tugs on Sam's letterman jacket, emblazoned with the colors of his old school. "Football is probably the best way to go. Rumor mill also says Finn Hudson, the late quarterback, just got kicked off the team."

Sam's expression turns thoughtful.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Pairings-wise, it seems like all the reviews have come to a general consensus. __I also planning on mixing the Glee Project kids with the Glee characters - just a teensy little bit. __I've already got a tangled relationships-web sketched up... muahahaha!__ EpicMarySue tossed in a couple wrenches into my tangled relationships-web... but one of them filled in a plot hole I didn't know I had, so thanks!_

_Also, in the story description, when I said "hot mess of Glee continuity," I hope you caught the sarcasm._


	3. Audition III

_**Featured songs:**  
>"Home" by Michael Buble<br>"Lovely" by Sara Haze_

* * *

><p>Thursday afternoon after school, Hannah glances at Damian. "Where's Sunshine?"<p>

Damian shrugs. "I saw her at lunch and sixth period."

"But she's not here," Hannah panics. "We need Sunshine! She's got so much oomf behind her voice, Damian, you've got to hear it!"

Damian raises an eyebrow. "I'm sure you're just as good without her."

"Aw, thanks Damian! But that's not what I meant—"

The Spanish teacher, Will Schuester, pokes his head out of the choir room. "We're ready for you two. Who's up first?"

Hannah takes an involuntary step backward; when she notices this, she laughs nervously. Damian looks at her inquisitively and then steps forward. "I'll go."

Hannah follows Damian into the choir room. She quickly counts heads: twelve people, many of whom she's known since she moved here in third grade. Quinn is significantly skinnier, having worked off her baby fat over the summer. Now, back in her Cheerio uniform, she's almost like she was last year: icy cold yet scathing hot, chin slightly raised like she owns the school; yet there is a slight air of vulnerability around her, the hurt that comes with repeated rejection. On the other side of the room, Santana has a bit more bounce in her boobs, noticeable with every slight movement; Brittany is observing this phenomenon with great interest. Finn's face is scrunched up in an _I am thinking don't talk to me_ expression while Rachel examines Damian eagerly, ready to assess his vocal talent. Hannah sits in the nearest available seat, which is next to Tina and Mike, the Asian couple who are practically cuddling with each other even when they're sitting in two separate seats.

_Another summer day has come and gone away  
>In Paris and Rome; but I wanna go home… Mmmmmmmm.<br>And I'm surrounded by  
>A million people I<br>Still feel all alone; I just wanna go home… Oh, I miss you, you know._

_And I've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you  
>Each one a line or two: "I'm fine, baby, how are you?"<br>Well I would send them but I know that it's just not enough  
>My words were cold and flat and you deserve more than that.<em>

Damian's alluring Irish accent and rich baritone carries the lyrics over the crowd; his facial expression holds calm nostalgia and his eyebrows dance with each emphasized word. In the way of dancing, Damian hardly shuffles his feet; just a couple simple hand motions while leaning against the piano. Tina cuddles even closer to Mike, and he pulls her chin up for a kiss.

When Damian's done, Mr. Schuester claps Damian on the back in congratulation while the rest of the club gives moderate applause. Damian collapses in the empty seat on the other side of Hannah. "How'd I do?"

"Your eyebrows were going crazy," she laughs goofily.

Damian's eyes sweep around the room. "Is Sunshine not here yet?"

"Maybe they can only do two auditions a day," Hannah whispers back. Mr. Schuester is looking at her expectantly, so she reluctantly gets to her feet. "Maybe Sunshine's audition is tomorrow." She combs her fingers through her curly hair again, then stands up in front of the Glee club and begins her audition song.

_I don't wanna be her; I just want to be little old me.  
>Shouldn't have to think who am I suppose to be today<br>And what give you the right to tell me who I should be?  
>Who gave you that right?<em>

_Cause I, I feel lovely just the way that I am_  
><em>Yes, I feel lovely the way that I am.<em>

Her voice is rough around the edges and cracks a couple times on higher notes… but nobody's perfect, right? It's not like she has auto-tune readily available to make her imperfect voice absolutely flawless. She runs with what she has.

When the piano's last notes die away, she's breathless. Mr. Schuester claps enthusiastically; the people in front of her clap half-heartedly, but Hannah ignores the lackluster response to collapse between Tina and Damian.

"Everybody," Mr. Schuester speaks from the front of the room. "I think we can all agree, so I'll officially welcome the newest members of the Glee family: Damian and Hannah!"

Some people—Brittany, Rachel, Kurt—clap in approval, but most just pick up their bags and walk out of the room as the 4pm bell rings. Tina leans across Mike's body to address Damian. "Hey, I'm Tina, and this is Mike." Damian gives a sharp nod in acknowledgement while mentally contrasting Tina's bright attitude versus her outrageously gothic outfit, and Tina continues. "You said that Sunshine was with you guys?"

"You know Sunshine?"

"The Asian community here in Lima is pretty tight," Mike explains. "All the moms keep track of everybody else's family and whose kids and dog is the best Asian of them all."

"Oh. Well, Sunshine _was_ going to come audition with us," Hannah sighs as she picks her bag off the floor and puts it in her lap. "But I think Rachel told her that auditions were in another place." She glances at Damian. "You didn't happen to get Sunshine's number, did you?"

"I thought you had it."

"I gave my number to her and told her to call me back so I could get her number, but she didn't."

"I missed one digit while putting it in my phone book," Damian frowns.

"We'll get a hold of her," Tina promises. "My mom probably has their landline; we'll tell her she can audition tomorrow after school."

"Congrats," Mike says, saluting the two as they exit the room. "See you guys tomorrow."

Hannah looks at Damian uneasily; she still remembers Rachel telling Sunshine after their bathroom Gaga duet-duel that the audition was at another address. Not at school. Hannah hadn't thought about it at the time, even when Mr. Schuester told her during the seventh and final period that auditions were after school at 3:45pm. But now… where was Sunshine, if she didn't know auditions were at school?

Damian picks up on her troubled expression as they walk out of the nearly empty choir room. "Something on your mind?"

Hannah shakes her head. "Nothing."

* * *

><p>Cameron veers around the street corner wildly, prompting all his friends in his car to yell and squish the unfortunate passenger on the outside of the turn.<p>

"Yeaaughhhh!" shouts said unfortunate passenger Blaine Anderson as three bodies crush him against the car wall.

"Try not to be too obvious," Cameron hollers. "I'm pretty sure only three people are legally allowed in the back."

A collective noise of acquiescence is murmured by the four passengers in the back seat and the two people in the trunk. Cameron puts the pedal to the metal as his little car struggles to top a large hill.

"Made it!" Wes Montgomery whoops from the front passenger seat as they barely scrape into the department store parking lot. The car bounces on a speed bump, producing groans from the guys in the trunk. As soon as the car's parked, eight Dalton Academy students explode from the depths of the five-passenger car. Since it's the middle of the week, all of them are still dressed in their uniforms and attract strange looks from other shoppers.

"Okay guys," Blaine shouts as guys smooth their wrinkled clothing. "We have half an hour to get everything we need… dinner's at six, so don't be late! Meet back here at 5!"

The teenagers scatter, some running eagerly. Cameron lopes along in the back of the pack with Nick Duval; he doesn't need anything in particular, but he was the only with a car and a license and the insurance to back it up.

His cell phone rings and he flips it open. "Hello?"

"Hey ex-neighbor! How's it going?"

Cameron's face lights up. "Hey Hannah, it's going swell. Finally got off of the school grounds, even if it's just shopping for some odds and ends."

"Haha, finally free! Must. See. Girls. Are they the ends and odds you're looking for?"

"Nah; laundry basket, junk food, shovels to hide the bodies stored in my car… the usual. How's high school going?"

"Third day of class… um, nothing really new. I joined the Glee club! Maybe we'll have some friendly pre-competition or something!"

"That would be pretty sweet. We're in the same region, right?"

"Yeah, maybe." Hannah's voice takes on a serious tone, and Cameron senses a request coming. "Hey Cam… I have a favor to ask."

"Sure. Shoot."

"It's actually a pretty sad story," Hannah sighs, and emotion starts leaking through her voice. "You remember Rachel Berry? The loud one?"

"The smart cookie that started the show choir group after I moved," Cam replies. "What of her?"

"One of my friends, Sunshine, wanted to audition for the Glee club, but Rachel got to her first and saw competition so she sent her to a freaking crack house on your end. Sunny's only a foreign exchange student—"

"Whoa whoa whoa, Hannah… say what?"

Hannah is audibly upset now; Cameron remembers that she did wear her heart on her sleeve, after all. "Rachel sent Sunshine to a crack house in Westerville."

"That's here."

"That's where you are. The hobos there knocked her around, stole the money she had for the bus ride back, and used her sheet music for toilet paper."

"Oh my god."

"Cam, you've got to go help her out. She's an exchange student from the Philippines and she's only been in America for two weeks. She'll think—"

"Hannah, there's only one problem: I brought eight guys here in my five-passenger car."

After a moment, Hannah laughs with her emotion-choked breath. "You would. You would drive that many people in your tiny ghetto-fixed car."

Cameron smiles. "I'm sure I can squeeze one more body in the trunk."

"Thanks, Cam. I owe you a shovel."

* * *

><p>Marissa finally completes the last touches on the international welcome banner that she's been working on all week. The previous one had been "accidently" set on fire during a welcoming Cheerio stunt meant to recruit freshmen, and a larger-than-life "Sue Sylvester Wants You (Unless You Suck)" banner erected in its place over the school entrance.<p>

_This one will be indoors,_ Marissa thinks smugly to herself, stepping back to admire her handiwork. _No cheerleading-stunt-gone-wrong excuses this time._ She glances up at the clock; it's almost six o'clock, but her family knows that she's working on school projects.

She glances over at her Japanese exchange sister, Mai. "What do you think?"

Mai simply nods, keeping her eyes shyly glued to the floor.

"Looks good," Damian compliments, pulling up on one end of the banner. "I've got to head home in a few, so let's hang this up quick."

Marissa picks up the other end of the long banner, and together they ease it out the door, through the twisting hallways to the indoor commons; Mai trails behind, quietly answering monosyllabically to Hannah's half-hearted conversation starters. "I'm thinking we should hang it flat against a wall," Marissa assesses. "If it's hanging in free air, somebody just might tear it down for fun."

With Hannah's and Mai's help, the four of them drag tables to the wall so they can stand on them. Hannah keeps glancing at the clock as she offers large stretches of Scotch tape to Damian and Marissa. "Any minute now," she murmurs.

"Thanks for staying around and helping me out," Marissa chirps. "Are you waiting for someone to pick you up, though? I thought you had a car, Hannah."

"I do," Hannah responds. "But I'm waiting on a friend."

"Rachel Berry sent Sunshine to a crack house," Damian states flatly.

Marissa gapes at him in shock. "She did what?"

"She saw Sunshine as competition, so she eliminated her," Hannah says gruffly.

"Wait, let me get this straight. Was Sunshine trying to audition for Glee?"

"We all did," Damian pipes up.

Marissa snorts. "You didn't hear me when I said Glee was a bad idea? I love to sing too, but that club is just a big ball of divas and drama. Not worth it."

Somebody knocks against the school's doors at that moment, and Hannah bursts outside. "Sunshine!" she shrieks, wrapping the tiny girl in a gigantic bear hug and lifting her off her feet. "Are you alright? Did the hobos hurt you?"

Sunshine shakes her head slightly. "I left my backpack by the door and they took my wallet and sheet music from it. I just got the wallet yesterday, so there were only ten dollars and a photo in it."

Damian strides over to the entrance, propping the door open so the two won't be locked outside. Marissa observes the tearful reunion through the open door, but then something else catches her eye: a very familiar-looking car with an equally familiar-looking driver standing next to it. She leaves a corner of her poster hanging as she slowly steps outside into the light of the setting sun.

Hannah runs over and hugs Cameron next; the warm amber sunlight lights her orange hair on fire, but Marissa isn't distracted by this. "Thanks so much, Cam," Hannah gushes, then plucks at his red-and-navy blazer. "Well shoot... don't _you _look snazzy?"

Cameron bows slightly with a little flourish, one arm still slung around Hannah's shoulder. "Compliments from Dalton Academy's Chivalry Club."

Cameron looks at Sunshine, but on the way, his eyes spot and focus on Marissa in the background. His eyes widen slightly and he immediately redirects his gaze to Sunshine. "You gonna be okay?"

Sunshine nods timidly. "I think so."

"I've got to head back," Cameron says hurriedly. "Curfew's at eight today and dinner's already started, so I gotta skedaddle." He salutes Hannah and Sunshine as he slips into his car. "See you at the next Glee club competition?"

Hannah waves. "Sunshine here has got the power! Tell your Warblers that it's on."

Cameron smirks as he pulls out of the parking lot. Marissa can only watch as he leaves… again.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Thanks to **harrynmioneluv**, **Forever Yours Emma**, **EpicMarySue**, and **xIchig0x **for double-reviewing! And for everybody else who reviewed! You guys are awesome, and as soon as this week of final exams is over, I'm going to get down to converting story-in-head to story-on-Microsoft-Word. I love them reviews._

_About the song selections: Not the entire song is included because I'm sure half of you don't even read the lyrics (they're great songs though, worthy enough to make it on my iPod and play over and over in my Recently Added playlist). I went and did my research by looking at the real people's facebook pages and noting their musical influences. The real Damian McGinty Jr. cites Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Michael Buble as musical influences, so I created a Pandora station... and found out the awesomeness that Michael Buble is! Plus the song "Home" fit well with this story's Damian background. As for the real Hannah McIalwain... she didn't list anything on her page, so I just went with what was playing on Pandora, which actually fit really well with a Hannah confident in her image and lovable personality._

_Wow, this week's episode... definitely a different flavor. Touched by Marissa, dislike how the show keeps editing Lindsay to be the resident villain, and would have been extremely upset if Cameron had been rejected because he was perfectly comfortable with who he is. Emily is an onion - she's got a lot of protective layers.__ Glee Project character appearances aren't going to be immediate, but I'm already pretty busy plotting out stuff for the few people I have now._

_More Damian next chapter plus some more new Glee Project characters!_


	4. Duets I

"Come again?" Damian asks in shock.

"I'm sorry, kid," Donna the secretary replies; the entire time, she doesn't look up from her computer screen. "We don't have a soccer program anymore."

"Why not?"

"Not enough funding," Donna says, finally glancing up at him. "Oh, you're the Irish—"

"How can you not have enough funding?" Damian disputes. "There are at least four automatic confetti cannons going off in the parking lot where the cheerleaders are burning their old uniforms because they have new sleeveless outfits."

"That's the problem," Donna states plainly. "Between the new award-winning football coach Shannon Beiste, and the homicidal cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester, funds are plenty stretched. Administration decided to cut the soccer and tennis programs."

Damian's entire body slumps and he looks at the floor. "Okay," he mumbles, turning to walk out of the office. "Thanks for your time, ma'am."

The minute he walks into the hall, he's shoved to the side by whooping cheerleaders cartwheeling and flipping down the halls in their new skin-revealing summer uniforms. He pries himself off the glass door and moves to a safer position, shouldering his heavy backpack. He really doesn't want to go home to an empty house and make dinner for himself, and he'd been hoping that football (or, as it was called in America, soccer) practice would help him pass the time till 9pm, when his mom got off work.

The clock reads 4:15. Damian briefly considers dropping by Hannah's house or maybe the apartment complex where half the international students live, including Sunshine's family… but he doesn't know them very well. He's only known everybody here for five school days.

Five hours. Five hours to go home and sit on his mattress on the floor of his tiny bedroom, staring at the empty, windowless walls and wishing he could jog down to the park next to Troy's place and kick around the football for a bit. Anything just to go home. Anything just to see his friends and father again.

The wave of homesickness that washes over him literally makes him nauseous, and he leans his forehead against the cool metal surface of a locker. He almost resents his mum. Just a little bit. Sure, she's earning twice as much here as she could be back in Ireland, but dragging him along—

"Do you want a mint?"

Damian turns his head slightly to the side, still keeping his forehead on the cool metal. There's a blond cheerleader to his right, an expression of concern on her pretty face. She's holding a box of Altoids out to him.

Never one to turn down a mint (because mints are always offered for a reason, he figures), Damian takes one and slips it into his mouth. It's icy cold and drains the burn in his face. Realizing how miserable he must look, he straightens.

The blonde cheerleader giggles and rattles her box of mints. "You're just really hot." To emphasize her point, she presses the back of her hand to his forehead. "What's wrong?"

Damian shifts his weight to his back foot, pulling away from her touch. He recognizes her now; she was sitting in the Glee room last Thursday while he was auditioning. "Nothing," he says, giving a little grin to convince her. "I'm good. Thanks for the mint." He turns to leave, but the cheerleader catches his hand and Damian stiffens.

"I gave you the mint to help you cool off," she states matter-of-factly. "So you owe me. Now that's you're cool and all, tell me what got you so worked up in the first place."

Damian purses his lips. "Just homesick."

The cheerleader taps her forefinger to her lips while maintaining her grip on his hand with her other. "Homesick? Where are you from?"

Damian cocks one of his eyebrows. "You don't recognize my accent?"

"Up until today," the blonde admits, "I thought you just had marbles in your mouth. I'm still figuring out where they went." She uses his hand to pull him uncomfortably close to her, peering up at his mouth.

Damian steps back again, but his heel hits the locker behind him. Their extreme proximity to each other has got the hairs on the back of his neck standing; he's distinctly uncomfortable in this situation. To divert her scrutiny, he tells her a half-truth. "Actually, I'm quite upset that your school doesn't have a soccer program."

To his relief, the cheerleader steps back thoughtfully. "You play soccer?"

"I love soccer," Damian answers truthfully. "Live, breathe, love it."

"I dated a boy who played soccer once," the cheerleader chirps, and before Damian can react, she's dragging him down the hall towards the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" he inquires as he stumbles behind her; she's got a grip of iron.

The girl pushes open the doors and leaps outside, Damian trailing behind. Sparkling confetti laces the air above the parking lot, reflecting bits of summer sun everywhere. Smoke from the smoldering outfits shields much of the dancing light, reducing white turtleneck collars and long white sleeves to ashes. Female cheerleaders practice flips and twirls on the blacktop, their acrobatics made even more appealing by flashing tanned skin and toned muscles.

As the girl pulls him through the glittery carnage, a Latina cheerleader turns around and calls out, "Brittany, where are you going? The party's just started!"

"I'm on the job," Brittany shouts back. "Wish me luck, San!"

The Latina nods curtly, and her smug face is the last thing Damian sees before he finds himself shoved into the passenger seat of a white buggy. It finally dawns on him that he just might be getting kidnapped by a ditsy blonde cheerleader—not that he fears any harm from her, but he'd feel a bit more comfortable if he were talking to her from outside her car. He moves to open his door, but a loud click echoes around the small space as Brittany slams her door shut.

She's locked the doors. And the lock won't unlock, no matter how hard Damian pushes on the little gray switch. "What the hell—"

"Child lock," Brittany explains simply as she pulls out of her parking space, traveling slowly through the masses of cheerleaders and confetti. "Keeps me from jumping out of the car at high speeds."

Damian ceases tugging on the door handle for a minute. "High speeds?"

As soon as Brittany pulls out of the school parking lot, she accelerates to 40 mph on a 15 mph road. "Don't worry," she assures. "I'm going to get you to soccer practice."

* * *

><p>Cameron hadn't been expecting to see Marissa again.<p>

Monday afternoon and he's still thinking about the expression on her face last Thursday evening. Hurt, shock, and an unspoken question. In the space of two seconds of eye contact, she'd communicated almost sixteen months of separation's words at him. And he? He turned tail and ran. Again. He just freaked out and left. Because what if she was hostile? What if she rejected him or yelled at him? What if she _cried_?

"What's up, Cameron?"

Cameron is startled out of his contemplation. From his position on his bed staring blankly at the ceiling, he glances over at his roommate and raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

"You just spaced. Again." Blaine grins and leans over from his desk to snap his fingers at Cameron's face. "I asked you a question; you said two words and then you zoned out."

Cameron slides his hand slowly over his face. "Sorry, man. Just thinking."

Blaine bites the tip of his pencil. He'd tossed his blazer on his bed as soon as he entered their dorm room, untucked and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white dress shirt, and loosened his tie significantly. Tufts of hair stick out from his normally gelled hair; overall, Blaine is the picture of relaxation, even though he's sitting at his desk doing homework. On the other hand, although Cameron lies on his bed, his body is stiff and he keeps his uniform on and untouched.

Cameron reaches behind him to grab his glasses, but his blazer inhibits his range of motion. He frowns and sits up to remove it; as soon as he sheds it, the teenager seems to snap back to his chill, relaxed self. Sliding his glasses back on his face, he leans against the headboard and closes his eyes. "I saw someone that I hurt."

Blaine doesn't say anything for a while, but he shifts around in his seat to face Cameron. "Did you... talk to him?"

"Her. No. Freaked and left."

"Did she see you freak and leave?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna be able to contact her again?"

Cameron groans and loosens his tie. "I haven't talked to her in a year and a half."

* * *

><p>Marissa definitely hadn't been expecting to see Cameron again. She'd thought she'd put it behind her and moved on, unfazed by his sudden departure and no longer under his influence.<p>

Apparently not. Just two seconds of eye contact, and she'd gone weak in the knees.

Marissa stares at her reflection yet again. Oval face framed by waves of red hair, soft gray eyes under long dark lashes. Her clothes outline the finer aspects of her body; she has the right friends in the right places; her resume is immaculate. She's comfortable where she is, and it makes her happy.

So why wasn't it good enough for him?

Something warm slides down her cheek. ...the hell? Why is she crying? It was a year and a half ago. She's past it, over it; it's done with. She hurriedly wipes away the errant drops; memories gush between the cracks in her mental barrier, but she shoves them to the back of her mind and throws them under lock and key. No need to confront what's in the past. What's past is in the past.

If only her heart would agree.

* * *

><p>Hannah glances around the choir room, looking for Damian and Sunshine; despite her constant optimism, she feels a little uncomfortable without her two friends by her side. She feels a special connection with the two international students that she only met last week, as opposed to the friends she's had since elementary. Those people are still her best friends, the people who know her inside out; their clique, the plain Janes, stands apart from the social ladder and are pretty much invisible to the athletes. Still, those friends didn't want to risk venturing out into the open by joining Glee; they prefer to remain invisible.<p>

Damian and Sunshine, on the other hand, agreed to join when she'd suggested joining. True, they didn't know about the whole social ladder... but as international students, their amnesty pins protected them from bullying during their most vulnerable period: their status as new students. The jocks and Cheerios tended to slushie anybody who stood out: freaks and deviants, passionate people with drive and aspirations, new students with their new faces and new opinions. With new students, their novelty would wear off within six weeks.

And besides, Hannah could also avoid slushies by walking right between Damian and Sunshine. Nobody could slushie her without splashing the international students as well.

The door to the choir room opens, and Sunshine slips in with another person in tow. When the two of them walk together like that, Sunshine almost looks like a normal teenager, instead of a 4'9" midget; the boy following behind her is just as small as she is.

Sunshine walks up to Mr. Schuester and introduces her short-buddy. They talk, and then Sunshine walks towards Hannah. Hannah nudges her as the small Filipino girl takes a seat next to her. "Hey hey, new beau?" she winks.

Sunshine shoves her back playfully. "Shut up. Hannah, this is-"

"Matheus," the boy greets, holding out his hand. As Hannah grasps his pinkie and shakes it jokingly, she remembers seeing him around before; he'd gone to her junior high. His short statue made him an easy target, just like her weight had earned her cruel pranks in middle school and eventually slushies in high school, but Matheus had scraped by because he had ways of getting back. Some of them got pretty creative, and they always stopped just short of maiming.

"Hannah," she grins. "Welcome to Weird People Inc.!"

Matheus grimaces uncomfortably, but he sits down next to Sunshine. Hannah leans towards both of them, modifying her voice to sound shallow and gossipy. "So, how did you two, like, meet?"

"He's in my P.E. Class," Sunshine starts.

She and Matheus share an amused glance, and Matheus picks up where she left off. "We ended up on the same dodgeball team and got to know each other when we kept being the last ones left standing. Small targets, you know."

"Alright, everybody!" Mr. Schuester begins. "We've got another new member: Matheus! He'll be 'auditioning' tomorrow, so be sure to be here at 3:45." A single word is scrawled on the whiteboard behind him: DUETS. He raps a knuckle against the board loudly, turns around to the high schoolers, and launches into a speech about complimenting each other with harmony and support before stopping about ten seconds in to ask: "Where's Puck? And Brittany?"

Finn raises a hand to call attention to himself. "He's in juvie," he explains, "for trying to steal the ATM in the convenience store on The Corner by crashing his mom's car through the front window."

The room bursts into surprised chatter for about three seconds before Mr. Schuester shushes everybody and turns to Santana. "And Brittany?"

The Latina smirks and inspects her nails. "She's... taking advantage of an opportunity."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Once again, in-head format seemed to be fairly short, but converting to computer format turned out to be much longer than I expected... so the new Glee Project characters are appearing next chapter! Next chapter will definitely be more Damian-centric as well._

_Note that this is based loosely off the second season, and I'm using my creative writer's license to switch things around a bit - things aren't necessary in chronological order! (Not that Glee has any sort of continuity... so I'm not screwing things over too bad.) The chapter titles are more of a reference to give you a bit of a background to the current events. The previous chapters have been based off things that happened in "Audition": Finn kicked off the football team, Sam becomes the quarterback and becomes popular, Rachel and Sunshine rivalry. The next couple chapters are going to be loosely based off stuff that happens in "Duets"._

_Thanks to **EpicMarySue** for the idea of the strange (and temporary) Damian-Brittany pairing, and to **Juliet Hummel-Anderson** for a plot idea. Not all of the suggested pairings fit into the loose sequence of events in my head, but friendships can be made and suggestions become story events that help fill in the story and its many plot holes. So keep those suggestions coming, because, truthfully, there's a lot to this story that hasn't been planned out yet! Help me!_


	5. Soccer I

Damian doesn't dare uncover his eyes until the car has stopped. He'd hunkered down in the passenger seat and tried to remain unseen when Brittany started racing the police car. He could feel the G-force that much more acutely as she veered around impossible corners trying to lose the sheriff, laughing and whooping out her open window as the wheels left screeching rubber marks and lifted off the ground occasionally.

He all but falls out of the passenger door when she opens it for him, seeing as the child lock prevents him from getting out himself. While sprawled out on the asphalt, he spots the little child lock switch on the interior of the car door, reaches up, and casually flicks it while picking himself off the ground with as much dignity as he can manage.

Brittany helps him dust off his clothes. "How're you feeling?" she asks in genuine concern.

Damian takes a deep breath and looks around. The parking lot they're in is crowded with cars, and he can't see much else. "How did you manage to lose the police?"

"I waved goodbye and drove faster," she replies simply, taking his hand once again. Damian just barely resists snatching his hand away; she's just... so childish and simple, and it wouldn't feel right to hurt her. He allows himself to be led through the cars to the edge of the parking lot.

There's a large, open, grassy field on the other side of a chain-link fence. There are people running on it, weaving back and forth amongst each other while passing around the familiar black-and-white ball. Damian's heart leaps as the sight greets his eyes, and he turns to Brittany.

"Really? You think I could really join them?" His eyebrows knit together. "Even if they're from another school district?"

Brittany squeezes his hand. Her skin is soft and her eyes shine as she looks at him happily. "I know the coach," she says breathlessly, pulling him towards the gate in the fence.

As soon as they pass through the fence's gate, Damian senses that something's wrong. All the people running on the field are female. He shoots a glance at the cheerleader, only to find that her face is scrunched up in confusion. She stops suddenly, releases his hand, and steps back, giving him a once-over. "Being the only guy soccer player has its benefits," she comforts. "Threesomes are easier to come by when you're a guy in the Cheerios."

Damian flushes all the way to the roots of his hair. "Um, that... I..."

Somebody taps him on the shoulder, and Damian whirls around to face a photographer. Her expensive-looking camera hangs freely from her neck exposed by her short pixie cut, and her hands are on her hips; she looks wary, eyeing Brittany's Cheerio uniform warily. "Can I help you guys?"

Damian splutters, still rendered speechless by Brittany's advice; Brittany pipes, "Can he join the team? He's really into thr—"

An uncontrolled explosion of sound erupts unbidden from Damian's lips, cutting off the rest of Brittany's unfortunate assumption. The photographer gives him a strange look, and Damian composes himself. "I was, uh, just wondering... my school doesn't have a soccer team, you see—"

The photographer gestures to Brittany's chest; it's only a second later that Damian realizes that he should be looking at the school insignia _WMHS_ and not the girl's ample cleavage. Damian blushes even more furiously. "You're from McKinley High?" the photographer grins, suddenly cheerful. "Haha, that's funny! My name's McKynleigh too."

Damian rubs the back of his neck, still overheating. "I'm Damian."

"And I'm Brittany!"

McKynleigh relaxes at Brittany's chipper attitude, having detected no duplicity from the blonde cheerleader. Her fingers fiddle with her camera as she continues conversing with Damian. "No soccer team, huh?" she says; Damian notices that she speaks somewhat differently than the other Americans. He's only been listening to American accents for about a week now, but he just feels that McKynleigh's voice is softer and drawls on a bit longer.

"No," Damian agrees sadly. "They cut it for the cheerleaders."

McKynleigh looks thoughtful. "Are you new blood? Like, how long have you been here?"

"A week."

"I see," McKynleigh says. "I've only been here for two years too, but I know for a fact that McKinley High's Cheerio team is legendary, and everything else from there sucks." She holds up her camera. "I'm one of the yearbook photographers, and I've been to matches against your school. It's true, we crush them everytime, so it makes sense that they would cut off their extra programs."

"Not football though," Brittany cuts in. "We need somebody to cheer for. Even if they suck."

"I heard the school recruited a new coach," McKynleigh says. "She's supposed to be better, right? Or at least different."

* * *

><p>Sam glances around at the other guys on the team—all hulking guys with the weight to plow through obstacles with sheer force. Sam's nowhere near that bulk; he's light on his feet, though, and that gives him an advantage this team doesn't have.<p>

Coach Beiste is something different. She looks like a man, for one, but Sam's seen worse; having gone to a small, private boys' school in a town half the size of Lima since fifth grade, he's used to unattractive women like his mom. He is _not_ used to being around so many hot girls, and when Quinn literally landed at his feet, he'd gone through sensory overload. All those hormones he hadn't put to use during middle school are reemerging with a vengeance, and they're all focused on that one image of a vulnerable girl sprawled in front of him. Even if she did happen to be the most popular girl in the school. But that's what he's here for now, right? Rising to her level by earning a spot on ball team.

No, Coach Beiste isn't different because of her looks. She makes up for it with passion; when the entire locker room keeps talking straight through her shrill whistle, she roars, "HEY!" She literally roars, and everybody stops talking instantly as the metal lockers vibrate with the aftershock of the noise explosion.

"Everybody," Coach Beiste announces. "You're all off the team."

The room instantly explodes into expressions of shock and rage, but Coach Beiste roars again and they all shut up. "We're building this team up from scratch," she explains with an elevated voice. "I want new blood and new talent. If you're here because it gets you laid every weekend, that's fine with me—but if I don't see some skill on that field in the next two hours, you're out. Now get out there and give me some laps in full gear."

Instantly, guys are protesting the decision, and their leader, Dave Karofsky, expresses the group sentiment. "Coach, laps are for losers."

Coach Beiste levels him with a glare that could melt steel. "Then show me what you've got. Show me that you live and breathe football and I'll think about not sending you packing. Now get out there!"

* * *

><p>"I want to join your school's soccer team," Damian explains. "I live and breathe soccer, and I know that I'll make a great addition."<p>

McKynleigh looks doubtful. "I don't really know," she admits. "You're going to have to talk to the coach about that. Our principal is pretty good, but the coach is really stubborn. He won't even give you the time of day unless somebody—"

"Heads!" comes a girl's shout, and McKynleigh and Brittany immediately crouch to the ground as the whistle of air announces an approaching projectile. Damian, however, gauges its approach and charges forward, arcing his back as the distance between him and the soccer ball shortens. Keeping his eyes on the target, he snaps his upper body forward and drives his bony forehead into the ball, launching it nicely back into play. A few appreciative shouts and whistles rise from the girls on the field, but Damian's eyes are drawn to the girl that shouted the warning. His heart stops momentarily; she looks so much like...

Behind him, McKynleigh gapes at Damian. "My god, that was amazing!" She pouts, holding up her camera. "And I was only three feet away..."

The girl that yelled the warning is about to rejoin her team when she notices Damian staring at her. After a moment's hesitation, she calls something back to her teammates behind her and jogs over.

As she nears, Damian is able to make out her facial features and he's able to breathe again. The girl is startling familiar to him: the way she moves, her hair in a tight ponytail... but as she nears, it's obvious that she's not Ashley.

As she approaches, McKynleigh greets, "Hey, Lindsay! Meet Damian; he's Irish!"

Lindsay stops next to McKynleigh, completing the fourth corner of a small square that McKynleigh, Damian, and Brittany are currently standing in. "That was pretty good," she compliments. "You're from Ireland?" She eyes Brittany's uniform questioningly. "And you're...?"

Catching his breath, Damian introduces, "This is Brittany. We're from McKinley High, and they don't have a soccer team. I was wondering, even though I'm from another city, if I could join your team." When he spots Brittany about to inject something probably not helpful, he adds specifically, "Your guys' team."

Lindsay plays with an errant strand of hair that's worked loose from her ponytail. "They're not practicing here," she asserts. "The guys' varsity team is at the field over by the high school."

"But they were here last time..." Brittany recalls softly.

"The boys' teams have never practiced here," Lindsay disagrees. "It's always been the girls here 'cause the guys get priority for high school grounds with almost every sport."

"Who was here last time?" McKynleigh asks kindly.

"One of my boyfriends," Brittany replies. "Brady. He was playing here with his friends when he tripped over somebody's feet and started crying."

Lindsay and McKynleigh share a dubious look. "There's no one at the high school called Brady," Lindsay states. "I've been here all my life; I know, like, everybody in the school."

"He wasn't in high school," Brittany retorts. "He was eight. Though he's probably nine now." She looks thoughtful. "Maybe now he'll be more man."

The other three people give her looks of shock that promptly fly over her head. Damian is the first to recover. "She's... sort of... like this all the time," he apologizes. "But anyways, I don't know where the high school is."

"It's... complex," McKynleigh admits. "Really, I don't know how to give simple directions there."

"Here, wait a few," Lindsay offers, backing up a couple steps. "I can direct you there. JV practice is over in ten minutes anyways."

* * *

><p>Lindsay whoops and laughs right along with Brittany as the white buggy careens haphazardly down the one lane street. Damian cowers in the back seat as Lindsay screams directions, then hangs onto the overhead handle for dear life as Brittany yanks the wheel in that direction immediately.<p>

After five minutes of several near-death experiences, the car comes to a screeching halt. Lindsay pops out of her door, patting her wind-mussed hair down. "That was the most fun I've had all week," she laughs, reaching across the hood of the car and give Brittany a high five. "You're insane, girl."

Brittany smiles serenely as Damian lurches out of the car. "Oh god," he groans. "Give me a moment."

After a short period of recovery, Lindsay leads the two behind the school to a large field. "Wow, we made it before JV practice finished," she gasps. "That means you'll have about fifteen minutes to prove your worth to Coach Tyson." She glances at Brittany uncertainly. "You said you knew Coach Tyson?"

Brittany nods dreamily. "I'm sure he'll remember me," she says confidently.

Lindsay shoots Damian a _what IS she? _look before smoothing it over. "Coach Tyson is one of the best soccer coaches," she informs, "But he has really high expectations. I'm sure with that header you could make it, but he's not going to take my word for it." She shrugs. "I'm only JV, after all. Well, I've got to head back," she declares as she begins to back away slowly in the direction of the parking lot. "I really hope you make it in; you're passionate about it, right?"

Damian nods affirmation, and Lindsay smiles widely. "If you're that good and just as passionate about soccer as Coach Tyson is, you'll have no trouble. Go get them, Damian."

"Thanks, Lindsay," Damian says, and, with a wave, Lindsay takes off.

Damian watches her go for a moment, then turns back to the field. "Alright, Bri..."

Brittany isn't standing next to him. In fact, he's not really sure when she disappeared; he glances around frantically, but no blonde cheerleader in a red-and-white uniform is visible. And when he jogs down to the playing field, there are a bunch of guys his age standing around, but no distinguishable figure of authority. He plucks the shirt of the nearest guy, who has long dreadlocks tied up into a ponytail. "Um, excuse me?"

Dreadlocks turns around; Damian almost cringes, the guy's stare is so penetrating and his presence in general just screams _rebel_. His voice is something different: unexpectedly friendly, but still with an edge of steel in the background. "Yeah? Hey, I haven't seen you around before. You new here?"

"Yeah, sort of," Damian agrees partially. "Can I talk to Coach Tyson?"

Dreadlocks scans the field; his hair whips around dramatically as he twists his neck back and forth. "Man, he was just here a minute ago," he muses.

"Coach Tyson?" a passing guy interjects. "Yeah, one of the cheerleaders from McKinley wanted to talk to him."

Damian relaxes; Brittany's already got things covered. From what Lindsay had said, Damian had been more worried about actually getting the coach's attention and not so much about showing his skill. Which aren't the best, but this is America. America is all about American football, right?

Besides, Damian's been driving the ball down the field since day one; he knows how to work his own body and how to work as part of a cohesive group. "Oh. Ah, I was just, um, thinking about joining your team."

* * *

><p>Coach Beiste's voice rings over the field as she shouts directions, but once again, nobody listens. Within a couple seconds, the ball is down, having only traveled a small distance.<p>

"Team!" Coach Beiste screams. "Get in here." When they gather, she begins, "This isn't about proving yourself to me. This is not about your own skill as an individual. This is football; it's a team sport. You guys got to work with each other as a team or else none of you are going to shine. Take a five minute break and show me better."

Sam makes sure to introduce himself to a couple of guys during their water break so they know he exists; it won't do if nobody passes the ball to him.

* * *

><p>The guy with dreadlocks grins. "I'm Samuel, by the way." Without waiting for an answer, he continues, "Most of the guys on this team have clawed our way here; with Coach Tyson, you can't pop up one day and join the next—"<p>

"I have heard that he's hard on his team, but I know I can work with you guys," Damian interrupts. "Here, let me play you."

Samuel looks skeptically at Damian's clothing: loose-fit jeans and a zip-up hoodie over a V-neck shirt. "Seriously?"

"Just so you know that I'm serious." Damian shrugs off his light jacket and steps onto the field.

Samuel calls two other guys to be the opposing team; they seem reluctant to step onto the field, but when Samuel points at Damian and says, "This guy's friend is keeping Coach busy," they stand on front of the goal.

When Damian gets into the game, all he can really think of are the openings. The micrometer-perfect passes that land directly in front of his teammate's feet, the ability to dance around his opponent to make himself free, and the slight spin on the ball to curve it right into the net.

Five minutes later, Samuel looks incredibly impressed. Even with the restriction of jeans, Damian has an eye for openings and the well-aimed kick to place them. "What position do you usually play?" he asks, having just received the ball and scored it.

"Wingback," Damian grins, jogging over to the side of the field. "Man, feels amazing after two weeks of nothing. I'm a bit out of shape."

"Can't have that, now can we?" calls another voice. Damian turns to the source, a guy who looks like he just tumbled out of a college frat. His arms are folded onto his chest stubbornly, throwing all the muscles into sharp relief, and his stern face is twisted into an obstinate expression. Damian is immediately intimidated, and the guys behind him all but fall to the ground, gibbering in apology for being on the field without permission. "I'll need to see more from you. Get some better clothes from the locker room; I want you on the field in five minutes. Don't keep me waiting."

Samuel's jaw drops, though he snaps it shut and smooths it over with a congratulatory expression when Damian turns to face him; still, he can't keep the slight resentment out of his voice at the Coach's immediate assessment. It wasn't like Damian was on the team yet, but somehow, just two minutes of observation was enough for the coach to give him a further chance? Samuel himself had played for JV for nine weeks before Coach finally noticed him. "Hey, looks like I will be seeing you around then," he compliments.

Damian's face breaks out into a full-on smile.

* * *

><p>Coach Beiste claps Sam on the back after practice. "Good work, Sam," she says gruffly. "Don't tell anybody now, but you were the best team player on the field. A lot of the guys here could take hints from you. I'd like the others to think I thought about it for a while, so I'll tell the team tomorrow; but you're the obvious choice for quarterback."<p>

Sam's face breaks out into a full-on smile.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Teamwork, duets, same difference._

_Heavy Damian-centric-ness here, even though I tried to spread some focus around. Next chapter is mostly Damian as well, because it all happens in the space of a couple hours, and nobody else really does anything during that time. So it's a lot of Damian for the next couple chapters, but I'm not complaining ^_^ Ha, and Brittany has her ways of persuasion._

_About Samuel... he was going to be the fifth New Directions member. But I couldn't think of any ways to include him in the general working of things, other than his big entrance into the club. Plus, I needed somebody on the soccer team. So there are only four people at McKinley now: Matheus, Hannah, Marissa, and Damian. And more awkward love triangles and squares (and just maybe a pentagon, though that's a bit down the road) to come! __  
><em>


	6. Soccer II

Brittany's driving has not improved in the two hours that Damian spent on the soccer field kicking ass, but Damian is so high off adrenaline that he stays upright the entire ride home and only flinches once when she drives off the road to avoid an oncoming semi-truck while trying to pass a small sedan on the one-lane highway back to Lima.

It's almost seven thirty when Brittany pulls up in front of Damian's house. She parks the car and turns the engine off while Damian remains in the car, trying to think of a way to appropriately express all the thanks he feels towards her. She hardly knew him, yet she skipped cheerleading practice and spent over three hours driving him to another city and waiting around so that he could get into a soccer team from another school. And she got the coach to pay attention to him; after practice, a lot of the other guys quasi-complained to him that he was getting it easy (even if he really was skilled, they admitted), and that the coach was usually ten times more insensitive and calloused than he showed himself today. It was a lot for her to do for him; Damian is incredibly grateful. "Thanks so much, Brittany," he begins.

Brittany pulls her hair out of her ponytail, allowing blonde tresses to cascade around her face. "No problem," she grins. "A favor for a favor, that's all."

"No, I'm serious," Damian continues. "That was a lot of work, and it means everything to me that I can play soccer on a team."

"Anything for a friend," Brittany speaks happily, unbuckling her seat belt and turning her body to face him. "I'm glad you got on the boys' team, even though watching you play with girls would have been more exciting."

Damian laughs. "I'd rather play with other guys, thanks. The sport really brings out my angry side, and I wouldn't play my best because I'd be afraid to hurt the girls."

Brittany's eyes light up as if this is a topic she's familiar with. "Oh, you don't have to be afraid of hurting me."

Before Damian can reply, she's grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him towards her, and kissed him. Hard. He's instantly floored; his lungs won't inflate and he can't even squeak as she roughly shoves her tongue into his unresponsive mouth. Her hand is still bunched in his shirt, keeping him in place, right next to her. Her straight blonde hair falls around both their faces, obscuring everything but her and her scent and the sensation of her seeking him out.

Yet the only thought that comes to him is another girl's face. Auburn hair pulled into a ponytail, her brow furrowed in concentration as she and Troy dart ahead of him.

Only seconds later, Brittany releases his shirt and both of them fall back into their seats. Brittany's face is alive and her eyes sparkle and she just exudes confidence and eagerness and happiness. Damian can't even feel his face. "See?" Brittany twitters. "I can handle you."

"Tha... that's... not exactly... what I meant," Damian stutters. His tongue isn't working, and Brittany notices; her eyes expand in fright.

"Oh no! Did I break your accent?" she cries frantically. "I'm so sorry—"

Damian makes a couple warm-up noises, beating his tongue back into working order. "I, uh, no, I'm fine. That was... wow. That was... wh... I mean, I was talking about footy. I mean, football. Soccer. Playing soccer with other guys." His face drains of color as he realizes how Brittany might have misinterpreted his statement. "N-n-n-no, not like that! No, I'm straight. I like girls. I really like girls. But I like playing sports with guys. So, uh, thanks for helping me get onto the guys' team." He goes to open the door, but Brittany touches his shoulder, an absolutely broken expression on her pretty face.

"Please don't go," she begs softly. "Not yet."

She's so much like a small, frightened child—despite her previous, very-adult-like actions—that Damian can't bring himself to shrug her off. He relaxes back into the passenger seat, and Brittany remains in her position leaning toward him. "I just..." Brittany murmurs. "I was so afraid that I broke your accent. It makes everything you say really sexy, even if you just want to eat salami." Her eyes light up. "Say it. Say you want to eat salami."

"Uhhhh... I want to eat salami?"

"Oh em gee, that's so sexy." Brittany leans even farther forward, hanging onto his every word. Damian resists pulling away, even though she's making him uncomfortable. Even if his body is responding differently. "Say something else."

"I'm Damian. I just moved here two weeks ago, and sometimes it—aughhhmmmm..." Unsure of what to say while Brittany hovered so close to him, he'd let his gaze drop momentarily. Brittany had taken the chance to swing a leg over him so that she straddles his lap. Leaning to the side, she pulls the reclining lever on Damian's chair, dropping the two of them down to a reclining position. The sudden drop plus Brittany's soft body crashing on top of his paralyzes him momentarily, and for a few seconds, he's lost in thought as his body lies unresponsive in the little white buggy as a blonde cheerleader sucks his face off.

The memory. Him and Troy and Ashley, best friends since soccer camp his first year of school. Troy and Ashley running ahead of him, passing the ball back and forth, only the background dissolves in a flash of light and Troy disappears as well, and Ashley turns around, only it's another girl with soft blue eyes and an American accent.

Damian is startled back into the present when fingers grasp the bottom hem of his shirt and yank it upward. He flinches violently as his belly is exposed, and he accidentally headbutts Brittany. Hard. He apologizes profusely as she cries out and reels backward, sliding off his legs. Flight response overwhelms chivalry, though, and Damian grabs the door handle and pulls. It's unlocked and the door opens. For the third time that day, he pretty much collapses out of Brittany's car, except this time his legs are tangled with another girl's. One that he ended up hurting after all, even if she assured him that she couldn't be.

He's really glad his mom works late hours.

Sitting on the ground, Damian stares up into Brittany's tear-streaked face. "Why?" she gasps, rubbing the spot on her forehead. "I just... I just wanted..."

Damian pulls himself to his feet and, despite his better judgment, helps Brittany off the floor of her car into the passenger seat. "Uh, are you alright?" he murmurs, patting her on the back awkwardly. "I—"

"I just wanted to be friends," Brittany whimpers.

"We're already friends," Damian assures her. "But I, uh, have to go."

"And I wanted to hear you come in Irish," Brittany says forlornly as Damian draws away from her car.

Damian tries to make it look like he isn't fleeing for his life, but he fails.

* * *

><p>Matheus paces nervously around Hannah's room, belting out random lines on his song.<p>

_Well you done done me and you bet I felt it,  
>I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted...<em>

"Relax," Sunshine orders, thumbing through her pocket dictionary for the Filipino translation of an English word. "It's not really an audition; they just want to get a feel for your voice so they can place you properly. The real fight comes when you have to pry solos away from Rachel's cold, clammy hands."

Hannah frowns as Sunshine's usually sunshiny voice takes on a darker edge. It just doesn't fit. It is warranted, though; what kind of person would send competition to a crack house?

"I know," Matheus groans. "I just get nervous when performing in front of large groups of people that I don't know."

"It's show choir," Sunshine exclaims. "We'll be singing _and_ dancing in front of people! Besides, a lot of the people there are dancers, and their voices aren't that great. Tina says that Mike is terrified of singing."

"But they're planning on dueting together," Hannah objects, looking up from her laptop.

Sunshine's phone buzzes, and she texts a quick reply. "That was Tina complaining," she informs. "Their dating is too Asian, she says; Mike's mom keeps dropping hints in Chinese about little boobs not being good for the children. She keeps forgetting that Tina happens to be a Korean who knows Chinese."

"But that's like the Asian curse," Hannah guffaws. "Short and no boobs. Unless you're a Japanese anime character."

"Com'on guys, I'm nervous about singing and you're talking about big boobs?"

"No boobs, mind you," Hannah corrects. "Big difference." She peers at her laptop screen. "Hey, Damian's just signed onto Skype!" She calls him and flips around the screen so everyone else can see; Sunshine scoots up next to Hannah's desk while Matheus looks over her shoulder.

Damian's face comes onto the screen; his hair is wet and spiky, as if he just toweled off after a shower. "Where were you?" Hannah and Sunshine shout in unison.

"Hey guys, sorry I couldn't make it," Damian grins.

"You're not sorry at all," Hannah contests, and Damian ducks his head and laughs.

"No, not at all. I'm on the varsity soccer team!"

Sunshine whoops congratulations, but Hannah's brow furrows. "I thought the school cut the soccer team," she disagrees. "A lot of my friends bitched about it last spring when they announced it."

"Yeah, about that..." Damian is suddenly edgy. "I went to another city. Another school."

"How'd you get there?" Hannah asks. "You don't have a car. By the way, Sunny and Matheus and I waited for you after Glee for like half an hour."

"Sorry," Damian says ruefully. "I was kicking arse on the field."

"Potty mouth!" Hannah calls. "And hey, by the way, Sunny's got a new boyfriend who's shorter than she is!"

Both Sunshine and Matheus punch Hannah on the shoulder jokingly, and she ignores them. "Hey, I'm Matheus," Matheus introduces.

"Hey. You're in my homeroom," Damian greets.

"Really?" Matheus can't really remember anybody in the class.

"Yeah, you sort of stand out."

"Ha. Ha."

"Did you ride the bus?" Sunshine cuts in. "How expensive was it?"

"There's a bus?" Damian asks in surprise.

"Yeah, I rode a bus to Westerville," Sunshine informs. "These little Ohio towns are conveniently linked together by a big public transportation system. I'm really surprised."

"Well, there's a famous coffee shop here in Lima that everybody goes to," Hannah explains. "But then the mall is in Westerville, and the movie theaters with the gigantic screens are in Carmel."

Damian nods. "That's where I was. Carmel."

"The three cities are all within a twenty mile radius from each other, according to the bus map," Sunshine says. "So riding it will probably be a two dollar fare every day."

Hannah's expression becomes concerned. "Wait, you're not quitting Glee, are you?"

Damian shakes his head. "Naw, I couldn't ditch you guys," he grins. "Varsity practice is almost an hour after Glee." His eyes dart off the camera as he pulls up an internet window. "But if the buses leave every half hour, then I'll probably have to leave early..."

Noting the uncomfortable expression Damian wore earlier, Hannah teases, "So how did you get to Carmel today, if you didn't ride the bus?"

True to her assumption, Damian immediately flushes red. "I... uh... well... It's sort of like this..."

* * *

><p>Santana is seething. She literally sees red. Her entire body is burning up, she's so furious.<p>

There he is, walking down the hall with his laughing friends. She doesn't care that two of them are wearing green pins; she doesn't care that she's going to be bringing the entire international club down on her head and probably even Principal Figgins and Coach Sylvester by breaking rules tightly established Rules be damned; her best friend just had her heart broken, and there's no way she's going to let him get away with it. Even if Brittany seems to be okay with it.

Santana has a moment of hesitation as they near; but then she splashes all three of them with slushie and their collective gasp of pain and shock is music to her ears. Smirking, she whirls around at the shocked faces of the tubby redhead and the Irish exchange, who's wiping cold syrup out of his eyes. "At least come clean before you reject her," she snarls. "You can't just go around playing with people's hearts. That's my job."

* * *

><p>Two hours later, it's a well-established fact around the school that the new Irish transfer student is gay.<p>

* * *

><p>"I'm so sorry," Marissa apologizes over and over again as she digs through the lost-and-found for a new shirt. "I didn't know—"<p>

"I'm straight," Damian groans as he wrings out his newly-washed shirt. "I swear."

"I'm sorry about the stupid rumor then." Marissa eyes his abs for just a second before returning to sorting through clothes. She pulls out a shirt that looks like it might be Sunshine's size and tosses it through the open bathroom door; a noise of thanks comes from her side as she tries it on. "You know what the best thing to do is? Get a girlfriend."

Damian's head snaps up from the paper towels he's using to pat his shirt dry. "What?"

"I know it seems superficial," Marissa explains quickly, "But this school is notorious for slapping labels on everything and calling it good. You get sorted into a category and you're stuck with it for a very long time, unless you do something drastic like become the football quarterback or cozy up to Jacob Ben Israel. He's the gossip girl of the school; Santana probably threatened bodily harm, sexed him up, or did both to get him to spread your fake story around." She finally pulls out a hot pink shirt and bites her lip. "This isn't going to help with stereotyping at all," she grimaces.

Damian leans up against the bathroom door, one hand shoved in his soccer shorts pocket. "Are you sure getting a fake girlfriend is the only way out?" he asks nervously.

Marissa keeps her eyes occupied with more clothes. "It's the easiest. I'm sure it won't be hard for you. A lot of Cheerios will sleep with anyone, but you're not just anyone; you've got an accent that's sexy as hell and—"

Damian crouches down to her eye level and looks at her seriously. "But I'm not like that," he says quietly. "I've only had one girl before." __Still do__, he adds silently.

"Well, you've got to get somebody with a good reputation, and that's pretty much the Cheerios. And even it's a three-second fling, they won't let you get away without getting in your pants first. They're the only ones I can think of who are influential yet desperate enough to—"

Sunshine pokes her head out of the girls' bathroom excitedly. "Why doesn't Damian fake-date you, Marissa?" she squeals. "You're pretty well known in the school, enough to get Santana two weeks of community service after Glee club and Cheerio practice. It's like one of those American dramas where one girl pretends to hook up with her brother so she can make her ex jealous; all you have to do is pretend—"

"What?" Marissa squeaks, her composure suddenly gone.

Damian's eyes are bright. "Would you?" he inquires, almost begs. "I know it's awkward... and I've only known you for a couple days. But you know about my situation; I don't want to throw myself at just anybody. And you know what to do, right? Just long enough until people stop thinking whatever. Please, just as... as a friend."

Marissa finally looks at Damian. His eyes plead with her; he's really serious about honor in relationships, she realizes, but he's stuck in a scenario that could make the rest of his American experience miserable. It wouldn't be fair to him.

And herself. This is like an opportunity presenting itself to her, a chance to prove to herself that she can live without Cameron. That she's done with him.

Even if it's just a temporary, fake relationship. A small transition step.

Oh god, this is convoluted.

Marissa nods, forcing a small smile to her face. "I could act the part."

* * *

><p><em><em>Author's Rant<em>_

__Marissa/Damian was not planned, I swear. It wrote itself this way o_O But it works for later stuff. Muahahahaha...__

__I was cracking up the entire time I wrote Damian/Brittany. Isn't it supposed to be bad when someone laughs at their own jokes?__

_Thanks to all those multiple reviewers out there - __**BelieverInLove, ForeverYoursEmma, **__**maggielyn, **__**xIchig0x, **__**SophiaHedlundAgron, DionysusDaughter98, **and **greeklover101.** _


	7. Soccer III

After the sixth missed call, somebody picks up. And it's not Marissa; he's got the wrong number.

Cameron hangs up and holds his head in his hands. It's nine at night. There is no way that he's going to apologize over Facebook. That would be terrible. No, if he really wants to get down to the bottom of this, he's going to have to catch her at school. Not at her parents' house or her work place; even when he left, she was already becoming incredibly busy, and he doubts she's changed now, judging from her appearance last Thursday night. Six o'clock and she was still at school?

The lunch break or directly after school is the only time he's going to catch her. The next opportunity to skip is in two days: no core classes then, but classes that still like taking attendance.

He's going to own Blaine big time now.

* * *

><p>Tuesday afternoon, and Glee practice is finishing up the meeting with Matheus' and Sunshine's auditions. Sunshine goes first; she'd received her new sheet music from Rachel yesterday and practiced in Hannah's room after Damian had finished his story. Her tiny body is able to produce so much volume and she's able to hold high notes with ease.<p>

_Listen to the song here in my heart, a melody I start but can't complete.  
><em>_Listen to the sound from deep within; it's only beginning to find release.  
><em>_Oh, the time has come for my dreams to be heard, they will not be pushed aside and t__urned  
><em>_Into your own, all 'cause you won't listen..._

_Listen, I am alone at a crossroads, I'm not at home in my own home  
><em>_And I've tried and tried to say what's on my mind. You should have known.  
><em>_Oh, now I'm done believing you; you don't know what I'm feeling.  
><em>_I'm more than what you made of me; I followed the voice you gave to me...  
><em>_B__ut now I've gotta find my own; You should have listened._

When she's done, the entire club gives her a standing ovation; who wouldn't, with an almost professional performance she just delivered. Everybody's excited except for Rachel, Hannah notices, who shifts uncomfortably in her seat while clapping halfheartedly.

Damian drops Marissa's hand to clap Matheus on the back as their second midget leaves their group to head onto the stage. Marissa does a good job of acting the part, Hannah notices, making up for Damian's lack of acting skill. And she seems to have eyes in the back of her head, because she never acts over-the-top unless it matters: when Santana or Quinn or Brittany are looking. She doesn't make eye contact with any of them, though; a wise choice, because Santana is literally blowing a fuse just being in the same auditorium as Marissa. She's got two hours of community service after cheerleading practice every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, after all; probably a manual labor job that will screw up her manicured nails. Hannah secretly cackles in sweet revenge.

_So I won't hesitate no more, no more; it cannot wait, I'm sure.  
>There's no need to complicate, our time is short.<br>This is our fate: I'm yours._

_Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me._  
><em>Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly;<em>  
><em>Birds fly over the rainbow—oh why then, oh why can't I?<em>

Halfway through Matheus' song, Damian has to leave to catch the Lima-Carmel bus. Marissa grabs his hand and pulls him in for a chaste kiss on the cheek, one that has both Santana and Damian turning red for different reasons. Then Damian's gone, and Hannah's left to laugh at their strange group of friends thrown together haphazardly: their acting-couple Damian and Marissa, their midget not-couple, Sunshine and Matheus (they hotly insist they're just friends, having only known each other for two days), the Asian couple Tina and Mike... and her, the class clown.

She tries not to think about her single status too much.

* * *

><p>Another day of familiar laps and drills has got Damian extremely tired at the end of the day but incredibly satisfied. He rinses off the afternoon's sweat in the school showers quickly, hops into his regular clothes, trades numbers with Samuel and some of the other guys, and catches the last bus to the main terminal.<p>

Half an hour later, he's still waiting for the Carmel-Lima bus. A lot of Out-Of-Service buses keep dropping people off, but they're not taking on anybody. Damian's getting extremely worried that he won't have a ride home when a familiar face hops off a bus.

"Damian?" Lindsay exclaims, her tight ponytail bobbing as she walks over to him. "I heard you made it on varsity! The whole school's talking about how an amazing Irish exchange soccer star from Lima is playing for us."

Damian blushes modestly. "I've been playing a while," he admits. "But I'm nowhere near the World Cup."

"So what are you still doing here?" Lindsay asks. "I thought you'd leave early to catch the last bus to Lima. Did Coach Tyson hold you back?"

Damian groans. "There's no bus at six thirty?"

"Last bus is at six," Lindsay half-apologizes. "You don't have a way of getting home?"

"My mom works here," Damian remembers. "But she doesn't get off work till eight."

Lindsay checks the time on her cell phone. "Yikes, that's a while to wait," she sympathizes. "Why don't you come to my house for dinner? I could drive you home afterward."

"No way," Damian rejects. _I tried that yesterday, and it didn't work out so well_. "That's too much of a hassle for you."

Lindsay puts a hand on her hip. "What else are you going to do for another two hours? Wait for your mom to come pick you up? Besides," she says, grabbing his elbow and dragging him forward, "My parents are totally cool with people dropping by all the time. Miki's actually there right now, editing her pictures."

"Miki?"

"McKynleigh's a mouthful," Lindsay explains, releasing Damian's elbow as he begins to follow of his own accord. "Plus, in conversation, we'd keep getting her and your school mixed up."

Damian stops in his tracks. "Wait... Dinner?" he gulps.

Lindsay cracks up at his expression. "Not like that," she laughs. "Friends swing by my place all the time—it's right next to the bus terminal, and my parents are used to feeding huge crowds. My older twin brothers left for college this summer, and I don't think my parents want to get used to the empty nest feel yet." She insistently pulls Damian along again, and this time, he keeps on walking.

"But it won't an empty nest unless you're gone," Damian corrects.

"My twin brothers? Oh boy, they were a riot all by themselves."

Despite being roughly ten centimeters shorter than him, Lindsay walks much faster; Damian has to consciously speed up his pace to keep up with her. "So you're the only child left?"

"I have three older brothers," Lindsay nods. "And they're all off at college. I'm the only one left! But I'm trying to make up for it by being twice as loud."

A car that looks like it's held together by duct tape turns the corner and almost runs into Lindsay; she hops onto the hood of the car, slamming her rear end into the metal surface hard. People laugh inside and the driver's window slides open. "Hey! Are you trying to split my car in half with your ass?" yells the brunette inside.

Lindsay leans into the window. "Heading out already, Kay? I thought you were going to wait for me."

The girl nods sadly. "Sorry, but my mom called. She actually wants me home for dinner, for once."

"Oh, well have fun eating dinner with your family," Lindsay drawls sarcastically, giving the girl a hug. She rejoins Damian walking in the middle of the street, explaining, "She's a theater friend."

"One of my friends is involved in theater," Damian recalls.

"Who is he? Or she. I might know them; Lima does a lot of stuff with Carmel, since they're so close and Lima is so small."

"Marissa?"

"I think I might have met her a couple times, during workshops," Lindsay recollects. "Redhead, perfect body?"

"That's her," Damian agrees.

"That's really cool," Lindsay grins. "Small world. Whenever we do workshops, we always do at least one improv together. She's amazing at making stuff up on the fly. A natural actress in general."

Damian thinks back to his day's interactions with Marissa; although they'd started off their pseudo-relationship-friendship with the common knowledge that this was all an act, she really threw a lot into public displays of affection (and wink afterward when Damian breathlessly blinked at her; she was ten times a better kisser than his girl back in Ireland). "Yeah," he agrees wholeheartedly.

They turn a corner, and immediately Damian spots Lindsay's house as the one with four cars parked out front and music blasting from the open front door. Lindsay runs the rest of the way to her front porch, dragging Damian behind. "I'm hoooome!" she trills as she crosses the threshold, slinging her bag off her shoulder as she enters the living room. Sitting on one of the couches, McKynleigh gently places her laptop on the floor and runs over to embrace Lindsay. Smells of cooking lace the air; the entire house just has a warm, homey feel to it, from the coffee colored walls highlighted by golden sun pouring in the large front window, to the cozy couches with an assortment of coats and backpacks strewn over it, to the gigantic television with some guys in front of it playing Halo.

"Hey, Damian!" McKynleigh greets. "I've heard you made it onto the school soccer team, congrats!"

"Yeah, everybody keeps talking about it," moans another voice, and Samuel enters the living room, wearing a hot pink shirt. "Man, if you'd told me you were coming to Lindsay's, I would have taken the bus with you."

Damian looks at Lindsay in surprise. "You two know each other?"

Lindsay half hugs Samuel as he slings an arm around her shoulders. "She's my best bud's little sis," he clarifies casually. "Besides, this house is the place to hang."

"Samuel didn't exactly graduate this year," McKynleigh explains; Samuel doesn't look offended by her blatant remark. "He's Carmel High's best shot at winning nationals this year, so they held him back."

"My band's touring after the season's over," Samuel rationalizes. "They'll give me my diploma then, but I'm not interested in wasting my money in school when I'm alright making it."

"I thought I heard a new voice," says an older blonde woman, who sidles past Samuel to stand on Lindsay's other side.

"Mom, this is Damian. He's the Irish transfer."

The woman shakes his hand warmly. "I'm Shannon. You must be the soccer player from Lima."

Damian grins ruefully. "I'm that famous?"

"Carmel High is all about competition," Shannon states. "And they make sure to shine plenty of light on their stars. Even Samuel's received music scholarships despite showing only soccer prowess in school."

"Food's ready," shouts a male voice, and a surge of people push Damian through the house into the backyard. He glimpses an older man, also blonde, on his way past; both of them look nothing like Lindsay, with her dark hair and blue eyes.

How does he know she has blue eyes?

* * *

><p>"San, you really didn't have to slushie the Irishman," Brittany says, shedding her Cheerio jacket as she drops onto her bed. "It's a good thing he's not a redhead, or he might have turned you into a leprechaun."<p>

Santana tries to make the mental connection in her head but fails. "Look, I just did it because I was pissed, okay? It doesn't mean anything."

Brittany smiles tenderly. "But you slushied an international student. _Two_ international students. You broke the only rule about slushies."

"Whatever." Santana shrugs off her jacket as well and crawls onto Brittany's bed, slinking over seductively. "Now give me one of those sweet lady kisses. I need some reward for my freaking community service."

Brittany speaks as soon as they come up for air about five minutes later; Santana scowls. It's one of Brittany's worse habits: talking in the middle of making out, as if it's just another casual, friend-making activity they do everyday like painting their nails or crushing boys' hearts.

Then again, they do make out quite often. But Brittany talking in the middle really kills the mood.

"San," she gasps, even as Santana tries to keep the mood going by suckling on the sweet spot on her neck. "Stop that, it tickles. I think we should do _Come to My Window_ together. For our duet."

"Less talking, more sucking."

And that's all that Santana intends to do, but Brittany suddenly becomes unresponsive. "But it totally applies to us," Brittany argues.

Not willing to out herself through song, Santana feigns disinterest and sits up to tie her hair back into its characteristic ponytail. "No, it doesn't apply to us at all," Santana contests. "I'm only making out with you cuz Puck's in the slammer and I'm like a lizard; I need something warm underneath me or else I can't digest my food."

Brittany's eyes suddenly go huge with grief, and Santana's distinctly aware that she said the wrong thing. Or maybe the right thing; she needs to make it clear that they are not romantically involved, even if everything they do indicates otherwise. She's doing it to protect Brittany; if the school found out, they'd tear her to shred mercilessly. Santana knows the social ladder; she'd been the queen bitch during the second semester last year after Quinn had been kicked off the team. Quinn had been able to stand being bullied every second of her pregnant life, finding refuge in Glee club and strength in herself. But Brittany has none of that. She's too airheaded to really connect with anybody except for Santana, who already knows her inside out.

Nobody can know. Not even Brittany. She wouldn't survive a day if she announced to the school that she and Santana were more than best friends. So it's best if Santana ends the conversation right now before it can even start.

Brittany remains distant for the rest of their time together, and Santana goes home early. While she walks home alone, she realizes that Quinn is one of the strongest people she knows (and resents, but that's beside the point).

Because if she came out, Santana knows she wouldn't be able to survive the bullying either.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Whoo! So many reviews for just six chapters! All your guys' feedback makes me incredibly happy! Now, 100 reviews is very possible—and to celebrate, if you guys hit that mark, I will cram time into my schedule to write and post two chapters next time! So tell me what you think about Damian and Lindsay and Brittany and Cameron! Also, Damian-centric-ness ends here; I'm moving onto other people's lives!_

_Somebody asked if Emily, Ellis, and Bryce would be appearing. Yes, all Glee Project members will appear at some point or the other; it's only that they appear later rather than sooner. They still play pivotal roles, however. (Hey, I just realized they were the first three eliminated... I mapped out who was going to be where in my head during the first week, though, so funny how it ended up that way.)_

_Exactly 20,000 word long story for the win!_


	8. Duets II

_**Featured songs:**  
><em>_"Best Thing I Never Had" by Beyonce  
><em>"_Billionaire" by Travie McCoy ft. Bruno Mars_

* * *

><p>Matheus joins Hannah and Sunshine as their Glee club troops down the hall towards the auditorium. Mr. Schuester has a spring in his step; after all, their club numbers around eighteen regulars now. They're so big, they're having trouble fitting into the choir room; so they're using the auditorium more and more frequently for performances.<p>

Marissa is the first to mount the stairs to the stage for her audition song.

_...I'm so over you so baby good lookin' out  
><em>

_I wanted you bad; I'm so through with that  
>Cause honestly you turned out to be the best thing I never had.<br>You turned out to be the best thing I never had and I'm gon' always be the best thing you never had.  
>I bet it sucks to be you right now. <em>

Her voice has the perfect R&B vibe, rough in most of the right places with plenty of funk thrown in for good measure. Mercedes looks slightly miffed that her role is being usurped, but she applauds loudly nonetheless. Rachel, on the other hand, looks downright territorial, as if Marissa is going to actively complete for solos (and possibly win).

Marissa rejoins Damian down in the seats; Damian slings an arm around her shoulder and squeezes her briefly. He's getting tons better on broadcasting to onlookers hat he's contributing to the pseudo-relationship, and he doesn't blush as obviously when Marissa touches him in a sensitive spot, like his hip or shoulder. For some reason, those places seem to be automatic switches for the full-on red flush.

Sometimes, Matheus isn't really sure that they're acting anymore.

Sam plays the guitar while he sings about money.

_I wanna be a billionaire so frickin' bad, buy all of the things I never had.  
>I wanna be on the cover of Forbes magazine, smiling next to Oprah and the Queen.<br>Oh every time I close my eyes I see my name in shining lights.  
>A different city every night, oh, I swear the world better prepare<br>For when I'm a billionaire._

After his audition, Mr. Schuester finally takes listings of duet partners. Of course, Finn and Rachel sign up together. So do Mike and Tina. Matheus glances over at Sunshine suggestively, only to find her already looking at him shyly. Sure, the two short people. Why not?

Kurt immediately approaches Sam and begins talking animatedly to him. Matheus sighs inwardly; he can't pluck up the courage to go talk to his friend. Sure, they'd only been friends for maybe five days, and then Sam had been appointed football quarterback and rocketed up into the popularity stratosphere, leaving Matheus behind. Matheus doesn't blame him for forgetting, but he does resent the fact that Sam ignores him. One day they were waiting at the same bus stop talking freely, and the next day, Sam had football practice and didn't ride the bus, plus he looked right over Matheus' head when Matheus waved to him in the hallway.

Sam looks over at Quinn as Kurt talks to him. Ah, still crushing... well, he's going to have ample opportunity now that he's in a position of power. One that Matheus told him about.

He and Sunshine sign up together. Marissa signs up for her and Damian, as Damian has already left for soccer practice. Matheus is surprised that Brittany doesn't sign up with her bestie, Santana; instead, Santana signs up with powerhouse Mercedes, and Brittany pairs with... Artie? At a loss for what to do, Quinn agrees when Hannah approaches her affably and offers to team up until Quinn finds somebody better.

Sunshine immediately launches into a whole repertoire of epic duets that will showcase both their voices (but mostly hers), but Matheus doesn't mind because truthfully, her voice rivals Rachel's and Mercedes'. This is her time to shine.

Kurt and Sam sign up together, and Matheus almost feels envious.

* * *

><p>"So what was Glee club like last year?"<p>

Quinn is conflicted. She's dodging back and forth between the outcast she was last year and the queen bee position she's attained yet again this year. She's seen both sides of the school now and she knows that being popular and stepping on people's toes to get there is the only way to live. Because it's hard being ignored, bullied, and looked down upon for being a hypocrite. President of the celibacy club getting laid? Kicked off the Cheerios because she couldn't perform anymore, lost all the "friends" she thought she had, and when people eyed her, it wasn't for her pretty face or her body, but rather for the large bump that she had to lug around every day as raging hormones made her want to curl in a corner and break down until people left her alone.

And now she's perfection again and has the opportunity to go back that time last year when everything worked in her favor, when she ran the school under her thumb and nobody dared conflict her. When even the Cheerios and jocks parted for her as she strutted down the halls. When nobody dared to testify against her when she pranked lesser individuals. When she could slushie people without a second thought. When Rachel was a speck of nothing, when Mercedes could be muted easily with a crack at her weight and image, when Kurt could be silenced by tossing him in the dumpster, when international students stayed invisible, when short people didn't dare walk around with such tall attitudes, when Marissa wasn't such a thorn in her side with her own rising popularity at scoring the hot Irish transfer student, when Finn was madly in love with her, her perfect football quarterback boyfriend.

When she was so powerful that what Quinn said was law.

She shocks Hannah by letting a tear escape through her iron defenses. It bubbles out of her perfect eyes, collecting some black mascara before rolling down her perfect cheek.

Damn. How is she supposed to explain this? Her answer to Hannah's simple question is a internal monologue followed by a tear. Hannah's a freshman this year, which means she was in junior high last year and thus may not have heard about Quinn's pregnancy. Not likely, though; Quinn and Finn had been Lima's poster children after an interview with the town newspaper their freshman year, so Quinn's fall for grace had been even greater and the crash at the bottom had hurt that much more.

So was Hannah's question simple ignorance or probing curiosity or plain malice?

"I'm sorry," Hannah apologizes frantically. "I... that just popped out of my mouth. I didn't mean to ask about what happened to you; I wanted to ask what Mr. Schue did with you guys last year. I heard the club didn't exactly take off at Regionals, and if he's going to be running the club differently. Maybe more weird popular stuff like Lady Gaga, or if he's going to keep doing Journey stuff. Which is, you know, nice and all, but not really relatable to us." Hannah shuts up finally, as if she realizes she's babbling.

"What I mean," Hannah finally says carefully, after a prolonged silence that Quinn doesn't fill, "Is... just be who you are. Everything you do is based in who you are. Even if you act out of character, part of your character is still in there, somewhere. So, I wasn't at this high school and I don't know who you were before and after, but both of them were you. So find a balance in between and run with it till you find something that fits with you. And not what everybody thinks you should be."

Quinn finally speaks up. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Hannah flushes as red as her hair. "Uh... I don't really know. I just sort of say whatever comes to my mind and sounds right. Very zen-like and natural, finding my groove or whatever." Hannah shrugs. "It usually works. Or at least, people usually take something away from it. Like a diamond in the rough or something. Take and pick what you want, honey—"

"What kind of music do you like?"

* * *

><p>Marissa doesn't actually remember how she re-friended Hannah. They had been friends during elementary... but that had been elementary. After she had locked onto Cameron in seventh grade, Hannah just sort of faded into the background, and they drifted apart.<p>

Well, Hannah seems to be just fine being besties again. She does that a lot—makes friends for life within the space of a couple days. Or at least, friends close enough to hang up in her mess of a bedroom after dinner. It's almost nine and she, Hannah, Sunshine, and Matheus are all sitting on the tiny couch across from Hannah's bed, calling up Damian on Skype.

"Hey!" they all shout at once as Damian picks up. However, while everybody else continues to chatter excitedly, Marissa notices a change in Damian's behavior: he's quiet and withdrawn and has that remembering look on. The one where he spaces out and thinks about stuff for about ten seconds before something recalls him back to the present.

When has she able to read him? She's only known him for two weeks. One week of that has been as his pseudo-girlfriend, though, so she's had a crash course in _All Things Damian_. He's a generally quiet guy with occasional spurts of spontaneous craziness; he likes to sing, but he's not the best actor or particularly romantic. He's actually really shy; she's learned to not touch certain parts of his torso, areas that seem to trigger memories. His right shoulder, his left hip. Not particularly sensitive areas; one would imagine that the face or the curve of the neck would elicit more of a response, but it's these places... dancing positions, she notes, where a woman would place her hands on her partner for a slow dance or something. Prior experience with another girl? He says he's only had one girlfriend before, and firsts always fall hard.

Doesn't she have experience with that. Marissa bites her lip bitterly.

Sunshine's describing all the possible songs she can sing with Matheus, ones where she gets to hit impossibly high notes with all the force she has in her tiny body... and, _oh yeah, I'm still not sure where Matheus comes in, but we'll find something_ and Matheus just laughs along with her.

Damian grins, but it's faint to say the least. Something about his eyes tells Marissa that he's uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable talking to them, but about something else. Maybe at soccer practice?

Marissa leans across Sunshine's body to fit into the computer screen. "How was practice?" she asks.

Damian's expression doesn't change; it's not soccer practice, so maybe something at home? Something happening with his mom? "Eh, it was alright. I went to a friend's house again afterward. I've been sucked into their circle of football friends."

"Are they anything like us?" Matheus questions.

"Are you kidding, Mat?" Hannah laughs. "Look at us... there's no one like us."

"Not at all," Damian grins, and this time it's genuine. "You guys are special."

"Hey!" shouts the small guy.

"I want to let you know that we resent that," says the large person.

"Aw, thanks!" gushes the clueless international student. "Wait, wasn't that supposed to be a compliment?"

Marissa only looks down at her own body: just a bit on the thin side. It's something that she struggled with after Cameron left. She's finally reached an equilibrium this year where she isn't hurting herself anymore.

"The Carmel people are different. They are very... elitist, that's what Shannon said. Oh, Marissa, my friend says she's met you before."

Marissa leans over Sunshine's body again to reply. "Yeah?"

"Lindsay. She does theater, like you."

"Yeah, she's a sweet girl." _And incredibly competitive. Elitist would make sense. _"How is she? I don't really know her that much outside of workshops."

"She's awfully friendly. She has a lot of people at her house all the time, but they all have to be out by ten. She knows another buddy of mine, Samuel; he's one of the best players on the team."

"We're not cheating on your not-girlfriend, now are we, Damian?" Hannah teases.

Damian's eyes suddenly unfocus. He's reliving another memory. Marissa watches him intently.

Hannah lets out an _oooooohh_ that snaps Damian back to the present. "Watcha doing with this girl, Damian?" she gasps.

Marissa slaps Hannah on the thigh. "It's alright," she says lightly at Damian. "It's not like we're really together, right? Go ahead."

"It's not like that!" Damian says frantically. "She's just a friend!"

"Oh really? First Brittany, now Lindsay... what are we going to do with you, Damian..."

Marissa grins as Hannah continues to milk every last drop of hot blood to Damian's face, but she can't help but wonder what Damian's first was like.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_WAIT! DON'T CLICK THAT NEXT BUTTON! I wrote two chapters to celebrate 100+ reviews (you guys are awesome!), but I still expect reviews for both chapters! Special thanks to **xIchig0x, SophiaHedlundAgron, Juliet Hummel-Anderson, greeklover 101, ****xxBlaineXKurtxx**, **Forever Yours Emma, BelieverInLove, **and **maggielyn**, all of whom have pretty much given me feedback/happy little comments every chapter! I seriously love you guys! Also, thanks to **slotes123** who reviewed multiple times in a row - I appreciate it :) And thanks to all those people who don't have accounts but still took the time to give unsigned reviews. Basically I love all my reviewers, so this double-post release is for you!_

_...So, now that I just got done yelling at you guys about reviewing this chapter, I'll admit that this is a filler chapter that works more on relationship-building than event-telling. Heh heh._

_Grrrr. "The episode 'Dance Ability' will air on Oxygen on July 10, and will be available on Hulu on July 14." In other words, I haven't watched the latest episode yet! It's killing me because I've already seen the full music video on Youtube and some of the bonus footage off the Oxygen website and one of my friends told me about a certain disturbing strip-tease. According to the real Hannah, "It was like watching a 10-year old with abs." Wait, who?__ :S_

_So instead of watching the Glee Project Monday morning at 1am, I decided to write these two chapters! _


	9. Deception

Hannah slams her backpack down on the lunch table. "I'm joining international club."

Sunshine and Matheus look up at her in surprise. "You?"

"Marissa's a redhead and I've got way more red than she does," Hannah qualifies. "I think I fit the mold just as well as she does."

"Not that I'm objecting to you joining," Sunshine grins, "but I'm pretty sure being redhead isn't the only reason why Marissa's part of the international club..."

"She's public relations officer for a reason," Hannah grumps as she pulls her sack lunch from her bag. "Mmm, apples, pudding, and a PBJ yet again. I've had the same lunch since fourth grade."

"What's a PBJ?" Sunshine asks in interest, leaning over.

"Just an acronym of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," Matheus explains, pulling out his own.

"Ow ow," Hannah crows as Marissa and Damian enter the outdoor commons, holding hands. "Incoming European couple!"

Damian grimaces at Hannah with a _quiet down_ expression while Marissa smiles faintly. Heads turn to assess the new couple; a couple Cheerios check Damian out, and Hannah's glad that the "gay" label didn't stick. Marissa throws a convincing _paws off_ glare at the pack of cheerleaders, who response in a chatter of gossip.

"You guys are so perfect together!" Sunshine squeals, then looks incredibly embarrassed at the statement about a fake relationship. "Um, I mean..."

"Sunny's totally right," Hannah whispers conspiratorially. "You guys make an amazingly cute couple."

Damian blushes. "Is it working?"

"Hell yeah! Shoot, boy, you're so clueless... didn't you notice all those Cheerios checking out your hot bod?"

Damian glances over at the nearest pack; all but one redirect their gazes. The one bold one winks and bats her eyelashes.

"She's hitting on me?" he asks in confusion.

All his friends around the table explode into laughter. "Damn, man," Matheus chuckles. "I've never had a girlfriend and even I know she's flirting."

Damian looks quietly down at his lunch; memories leak back into his mind. Troy and Ashley. Troy and Ashley. Troy and Ashley, except they're all standing with him in Lindsay's backyard eating lasagna and drinking lemonade with McKynleigh and Samuel and five other people who happened to be there. Ashley turns around, and it's still Ashley's face—except her sharp green eyes have been replaced with a soft blue. Those fiery green eyes were what defined her: brilliant and energetic off the field to compensate for his quiet humor and Troy's off-the-wall craziness, and burning with passion and drive when kicking his arse up and down the field, just barely keeping the ball out of his reach and passing it micrometer-perfectly to Troy just when Damian was frustrated enough to tackle her.

Damian's not sure what Lindsay's eyes mean.

"You okay?" Marissa's gentle voice break through his thoughts.

Damian looks up at her soft blue eyes. "Just thinking," he grins, and ends the conversation with a quick peck to her cheek.

* * *

><p>Having been in Dalton Academy for almost two years now, it feel extremely strange for Cameron to be in the halls of McKinley again. He's planned this excursion quite thoroughly, with his uniform stored in his car and Blaine covering his tracks back at the boarding school. Now, Cameron's back in his old, comfortable outfit: suspenders, cardigan over a tiny black shirt, skinny jeans, and thick framed black glasses. It's comfortable and hasn't been worn a lot since moving to a school where uniforms are worn constantly. Cameron feels slightly more relaxed in his old outfit; it feels more like him, something that he's missed since disappearing into the uniforms of Dalton.<p>

But he's still pretty scared out of his mind. Sixteen months of ignoring a problem is not good for you. Maybe they wouldn't be going through this if he hadn't given up on her so quickly. If he'd tried to _show_ her that he meant what he said, instead of just saying it over and over again.

Cameron pauses on the landing of the caged stairwell, looking over the outdoor commons. He hadn't seen Marissa indoors, and he wants to make sure that she's still here. He isn't going to march up to her in the middle of a public area; it'd be embarrassing for the both of them, having been a secret item in the past that never came to the light before it splintered. He'll just make sure she's here, and then, when lunch is done, he'll pull her off to the side into a secluded area. Maybe the astronomy classroom; it's usually unoccupied. Ironically, that's where all the desperate high schoolers go to make out, but it's the only private area he can think of.

He presses a palm flat against the surface as he peers through the metal grate. There are a lot of people eating outside; it's a warm, sunny day, after all.

Then he spots her. Marissa, sitting with a group of friends. In fact, those same people that he'd seen when he'd dropped Sunshine off at the school last week. Sunshine and Hannah sit across from her, talking animatedly to another small person; the other guy Cameron had seen that day sits extremely close to Marissa. He's looking down at his lap until she leans into his bubble and says something. He quickly leans over and kisses her, causing her to laugh and push him away teasingly.

For some reason, something inside Cameron breaks. Something akin to jealousy rears up inside him before he frantically shoves it down. What the hell? Why is he feeling this? He hadn't even thought about Marissa until he saw her last Thursday. Then again, all he's thought about since last Thursday is her, but that's because he wanted to explain his situation and apologize for hurting and ignoring her. That's all. He doesn't have feelings for her anymore and he still remembers why he fell out of love with her in the first place.

And her finding someone else should be happening; it's been a year and a half, and Marissa couldn't have stayed single the entire time. She was on the up-and-up when they'd fallen apart; she'd been losing weight and getting involved in a million school clubs and getting into theater with the Lima-Carmel joint club and earning money with a job and volunteering at the pet shelter. Of course she'd be able to move on without him quite easily. And she had; she had a boyfriend who wasn't a football jock, who looked like another responsible kid with more things on his mind than knocking up Cheerios over the weekend.

So what does he have to feel jealous about?

He almost convinces himself that she's okay and that he doesn't have to worry about apologizing, that the one broken look he'd received in those two seconds on a Thursday evening had been a mistake or miscommunication. _Marissa's fine; she doesn't need an apology from a nerdy ex-boyfriend_, he tells himself, almost turning away.

But then Blaine's voice echoes in his head.

"_I haven't talked to her in a year and a half."_

_Blaine leans forward, a thoughtful expression on his face. "So what are you going to do about it?"_

And then they had sketched out a crazy plan that Cameron had written off as far-fetched; only Blaine went and did his research and, when Cameron approached him two days ago with this far-fetched, crazy proposal, Blaine accepted it without question, even doing his online homework for him.

Cameron turns back and peers through the metal grating again. Marissa and her boyfriend don't seem to be crazy in love; it's more of a light camaraderie occasionally accented by knowing looks from friends and shared looks with each other. Hannah, especially. Maybe she set the two up; Hannah was a pretty good matchmaker, always seeing the best in people and helping others to do so too.

Cameron realizes that he's literally quaking in his boots. How is he supposed to apologize to her now, now that he's realized that he might not be over her yet or at least hasn't found closure yet and here she is in front of him, happy with a boyfriend? How is he, the ex, supposed to drop in out of nowhere and dig up things in the past when she already seems to be okay?

Damn. This is so convoluted.

Hannah. She'd know what to do. Maybe he'll have to tell her about him and Marissa, but at this point, he's ready to do anything to calm his nerves. And Hannah was an amazing listener; she'd know what to do. He pulls out his phone and texts her.

_Meet me in the astronomy classroom._

* * *

><p>"Do you really think he's straight?" Brittany whispers to Santana.<p>

"You tell me; he's the one that brushed you off," Santana hisses. "What straight guy wouldn't tap your body?"

"I don't know," Brittany whispers. "But he seems perfectly happy with her. Even if he's terribly shy. And a terrible kisser."

"Bitch," Santana mumbles under her breath. Feeling particularly spiteful, she sticks out her foot just as Damian's fat friend passes by, tripping her up. Santana quickly resumes eating, slightly comforted.

* * *

><p>Some higher power is laughing at her. Pointing their fingers and laughing at her.<p>

Hannah tries not to wear her heart on her sleeve, but it just leaks out all the same. And right now she's feeling incredibly crappy. Her long-time best friend, neighbor, crush since elementary school who moved to another town just texted her, telling her to meet him in the classroom where everybody goes to make out. In addition, some bully had just tripped her in the commons, and now her entire body is scratched up and her front is dirty. A quick trip to the bathroom allows her to clean herself up a bit and wait for the redness in her eyes to clear, and it isn't until ten minutes after she got the text that she slips into the astronomy classroom.

Cameron's waiting in the corner, and she plasters on a happy smile as she goes to hug him. "Cam!" she exclaims. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in school."

Cameron winks. "Technically, I am. My roommate's covering for me today. Listen, I need to ask you a really big favor."

"Huh, I never did get that shovel to you, did I?" Hannah muses. "I guess I can spare a favor or two."

Cameron grins ear-to-ear, the familiar face that Hannah remembers from so many memories: when she fell out of the tree in his backyard and she didn't tell his parents that it was him that had accidentally shoved her off the branch in the first place; when she'd shared half her Halloween candy with him with he'd failed to visit the rich-people street; when she complimented his guitar skills and voice even when he knew he was horrible at both.

Hannah's heart wilts a little bit, but she keeps on her brave friend-face.

Cameron notices her dirty clothes for the first time. "What happened to you?" he asks in concernedly.

"Ha, oh, well, I just tripped. Ah, over my own feet. It was pretty bad."

Cameron looks into her and sees past her facade, knows that she's not willing to admit that she's still getting bullied because of her appearance. "Well I hope it gets better," he murmurs softly. "You're pretty strong, I know."

Hannah shakes her head, pushing back the emotion stubbornly. "Okay, just tell me what this huge favor is."

"So... um... how do I say this? Marissa and I went out two years ago."

The abrupt transition in subject, plus the subject itself, is enough to render Hannah speechless. Yeah, she knew that they were really close friends. Yes, she had thought several, several times that maybe, just maybe, they were going out. Rumors went around the school that they were, but it was never confirmed. Besides, nobody cared about two outcasts: the super scrawny nerd and the frizzy-haired girl with her two front teeth missing after crashing her bike into a tree at the bottom of a very steep hill. Hannah had befriended Marissa at the hospital, and Cameron joined in on their friendship up until he moved at the end of his freshman year; Marissa had been in eighth grade, and Hannah a year below.

Cameron misinterprets her shocked silence as ignorance of their relationship. "Yeah, we got pretty tight," he admits. "It wasn't anything that serious, since it was both our firsts. But still, it meant something."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hannah all but demands. She doesn't want to sound mad at Cameron, but this conversation isn't anywhere near her comfort zone. She's used to helping people with their problems, but their problems were never a part of hers. She reigns herself in, making her face softer.

"I... I hurt her," Cameron says weakly. "When I left, I didn't wrap things up with her. We never got closure. I forgot about it, but when I gave Sunny a ride last week and saw her... I... she just looked so fragile." Cameron stops, searching for words. This draws Hannah's attention; Cameron usually knows what to say, he's really expressive like that. To be at a loss for words is equivalent to Cameron not knowing what to think about said topic. And closure? Does that mean he still likes her?

And Marissa, with Damian. Hannah has got to admit, she's a good actress. But is it really acting? Or is she using Damian to get over Cameron? Everything seems to revolve around the brief encounter last Thursday, with Cameron and Marissa remembering each other and their forgotten history again.

"I came back to apologize to her," Cameron continues, oblivious to the cogs whirling in Hannah's head. "I haven't talked to her in a while... actually, not since I left. But I saw you guys eating together today, and I thought—"

"We just became half-friends again," Hannah corrects. "Marissa went her own way when you left. I kept on being the same. I only 'met' her again through Damian. He's an Irish transfer student, and she's the Public Relations officer for the International Club."

"Damian..." For a second, Cameron looks vulnerable. "Her boyfriend?"

Hannah's heart stops. He's feeling insecure because he saw Marissa and Damian pseudo-flirting in their pseudo-relationship... it almost makes Hannah want to sigh in relief, being able to tell her friend freely that they're not really dating, that Damian's situation was especially awkward that it called for drastic measures.

But then again... he just literally screamed aloud that he still has feelings for Marissa. And that just strikes a cord of jealousy in Hannah's heart. It makes her do something that she would never do; she just isn't a mean, spiteful person. She lives for other people, pointing out their better qualities and the silver linings in their darkest situations, sympathizing and making other people laugh. She's a people person and she loves them; she's the class clown. But jealousy is a cruel thing.

"Yeah," she lies. "Her boyfriend."

* * *

><p><em><em>Author's Rant<em>_

__Every person is like duct tape. They have a light side and a dark side and they like to stick to other things, like possessions or people or hopes and dreams, etc. So I've been trying to express every character's good and bad qualities (i.e. Marissa is insecure, Damian can't let go, etc) and trying to avoid Mary-Sue-ism. (Tell me if I'm on the right track?) So please don't hate on Hannah!__

__Title called "Deception" for four reasons: Damian's tricking himself mixing up two girls and combining them together; Cameron thought he didn't have feelings for Marissa; and Hannah deceived Cameron into thinking Damian and Marissa are dating. The final reason? This chapter doesn't really fit into the Glee 2nd season timeline (Audition, Duets, etc). Or into any other arc (like Soccer I, II, and III, which didn't specify a second season episode but was long enough for its own arc). This chapter is a transition chapter from Duets to the next arc, so it gets its own special, meaningful title!__

__FINALLY! Cameron appears! Now I can finally start doing stuff with him! [insert evil laughter] Yes, you will be seeing much Cameron, Marissa, and Damian for a couple chapters. It's like the best of two worlds: I get to show some Damian/Marissa, hint a little Cameron/Marissa, have bits of Damian/Lindsay and maybe play around with some Cameron/Damian. Somebody give me a "YEAH!" for burning love squares! (Seriously, tell me what you think when you drop a review!)__


	10. Recollection

"Hannah, this is Quinn."

Hannah stares at her cell phone in shock. Quinn, the most popular girl in the school, is calling the weird, goofy, silly class clown. Is there something fishy here? They'd only spent two days talking about two weeks ago (or Hannah babbling and Quinn interjecting random questions to get her to shut up, or at least change topics) before Kurt had "broken up" with Sam. Sam had then paired up with Quinn while Hannah sang with Kurt. Sam and Quinn had sung a very unconvincing, stiffer-than-a-dead-cat-stuck-under-the-dryer-for-three-months rendition of _Lucky _when they obviously weren't remotely close to best friends at all.

_Do you hear me? I'm talking to you across the water,  
><em>_Across the deep blue ocean under the open sky, oh my, baby, I'm trying._

_Boy, I hear you in my dreams; I feel your whisper across the sea.  
>I keep you with me in my heart; you make it easier when life gets hard.<em>

_I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend, lucky to have been where I have been,_  
><em>Lucky to be coming home again. Ooohh...<em>

Or at least, Quinn didn't seem interested; almost everybody could tell that Sam was crazy about her.

Oh, and her and Kurt's song? They rocked it with _Hair_. You couldn't go wrong with Lady Gaga.

_Whenever I dress cool, my parents put up a fight;  
>And if I'm a hotshot, Mom will cut hair at night.<br>In the morning I'm short of my identity._

_I scream, "Mom and Dad, why can't I be who I wanna be?"  
>I just wanna be myself and I want you to love me for who I am.<br>I just wanna be myself and I want you to know: I am my hair._

_I've had enough! This is my prayer: that I'll die living just as free as my hair._  
><em>I've had enough! This is my prayer: that I'll die living just as free as my hair.<em>  
><em>I've had enough; I'm not a freak. I must keep fighting to stay cool on the streets.<em>  
><em>I've had enough, enough, enough and this is my prayer, I swear.<em>  
><em>I'm as free as my hair.<em>

You can't go wrong with lots of hairography and crazy dancing. Hannah actually had a lot of fun pulling out the random dance moves in her bedroom with Kurt. Alone, of course, with the door closed; nobody needed to see the rough drafts of their choreography, and, after ten minutes of conversation with Kurt, her parents were totally okay with Hannah shutting herself alone in her room with him. She kicked Sunshine and Matheus out of her room as well.

Hannah likes Kurt. He has a sarcastic wit that could be biting, but Hannah compensates with extra goofiness sprinkled over everything, dampening his dry sense of humor. Plus he gives her some matching tips; not fashion advice, but just what goes with what, because Hannah really doesn't care what she throws on in the morning. She just picks up the first things she sees off the floor in the morning and throws it on, as long as they're clean and sort of kind of look like they don't clash.

Hannah ensured that they went before Sunshine and Matheus, though, because she knew that Sunshine was going to pull out all the stops for this one.

_I hear the ticking of the clock. I'm lying here; the room's pitch dark.  
>I wonder where you are tonight; no answer on the telephone.<br>And the night goes by so very slow. Oh I hope that it won't end though  
>Alone.<em>

_Till now I always got by on my own, I never really cared until I met you._  
><em>And now it chills me to the bone. How do I get you alone?<em>  
><em>How do I get you alone?<em>

And damn, she did rock that stage. Matheus' eyes never left her face in admiration as her voice reached new levels of awesome.

Damian couldn't dance and he couldn't act, but it was cute seeing him trying to tell his half of the story during his verse. When it came to her point of view, though, Marissa slapped him around the stage while belting out angry sentiment and whipping her red hair. They did an interesting mashup of _Cry Me a River._

_Now you say you're lonely, you cried the whole night through  
>Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river<br>I cried a river over you._

_Now you say you're sorry for being so untrue_  
><em>Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river<em>  
><em>I cried a river over you.<em>

It was creative and played to their strengths: Damian's moody baritone and Marissa's R&B sass; Hannah gave them effort points. But she totally wanted to get her little people together (plus Sunshine did showcase her vocal strength), so she voted for Sunshine and Matheus.

But some other matchmaking must have been going down behind the scenes, because Sam and Quinn's barely-emotive, stiffer-than-a-dead-cat performance somehow won.

And that's cool too, because Sam's the popular new kid, quarterback of the football team vying for the attention of the head cheerleader Quinn. By getting them together, the Glee club is securing the most popular guy as a member—and that's got to be a status booster for the whole club, right? Well, they're not actually going out yet; but rumor went around around the halls today that Sam's taking her out on a "date" using those Breadstix coupon prizes tonight. So why is she calling Hannah, if she's about to go out with the most popular guy in the school?

"Hello?"

Hannah realizes that the above thought process took her all of fifteen seconds to think about, which is quite a while to wait on the phone. "Oh, hey Quinn!" she chirps. "What's up?"

"I... I don't think I can do this."

"Do what?" Quinn hadn't revealed a lot of personal stuff in their short time together, but they'd talked about enough stuff for Quinn to realize Hannah was a really good listener. And sometimes, some of the stuff she spouted was useful.

"I can't commit."

Hannah waits for further explanation, but none is forthcoming. "But it's not really a date, is it? Did he say it was a date?"

"...No."

"So cool, go stuff yourself with your free breadsticks and see what type of guy he is. Give him a chance. I mean, not all guys are the same. You've got Puck with swagga, and Finn's sweet, Mike's sly, Matheus has so much energy, Damian's shy. We don't really know what Sam is, except that he's madly in love with you. Think of this more as another guy helping you eat your bottomless bucket of breadsticks. Oh god, I'm so hungry. Pardon me if I make crunching noises."

There's a short silence where Hannah pulls a bag of chips out of her food drawer and begins crunching away. When Quinn still remains silent, Hannah continues, "Basically, no one said that this was going to be a date, right? Just because you two happened to win the duet competition, doesn't mean that you two are automatically going out. So make that clear with him that this isn't a date, just two friends eating food across from each other. Ah crap, I really want me some of those breadsticks. Hey, make like Santana and sneak a wheelbarrow into the restaurant, yeah?"

"Hannah, I am not going to steal five gallons of breadsticks from the store."

"Well, it was worth a try. Does this mean that you're going to Breadstix?"

Quinn pauses. "If you tell anybody that we had this conversation, I will personally make sure at least four guys work together to pick you up and heave your body into the dumpster."

Hannah barely holds back a snort-laugh. "My lips are sealed."

* * *

><p>The next day, Quinn and Sam walk down the hallway, holding hands.<p>

* * *

><p>Back and forth, back and forth. Lots of running, dribbling, passing, shooting. It just all blurs into a big blob of sweat and turf and sun and anger. The game really brings out Damian's angry side, a sharp contrast to his timid behavior once in the locker rooms cajoling with the other guys.<p>

Damian towels off his wet hair; it comes up in stubborn spikes, even when he pulls his shirt over them. "Hey Samuel?"

Samuel releases his bundle of dreadlocks, which fall freely around his bare chest. "Yeah, man?"

"How do you know Lindsay's family?"

"I formed the band with her brothers," Samuel explains. "They both wanted the whole college experience, though, so they didn't stick around. The band hasn't been the same without them. It's a lot more about me, for one." Samuel grins. "And I'm not complaining, but it's different."

"Um... so, I've been meaning to ask her, but it just seems really awkward now... but is she adopted?"

Samuel laughs out loud. "Aw man, yeah, she is. Blonde parents, brunette kid? Yeah, her three brothers are blonde too."

Damian pulls some shorts on and crams his stuff into his backpack. Samuel also swings his stuff onto his back, and they head to the bus stop together.

Three weeks, and Damian's already settled in a comfortable pattern: school, Glee, soccer, Lindsay's, and his room. That first week, he still felt uncomfortable around Lindsay's friends eating at her house... but when his mom started bringing her new boyfriend over for dinner, Damian preferred to eat with Lindsay.

His mom has had plenty of boyfriends before. None of them lasted longer than six months. Maybe Americans are different, but Damian sure as hell doesn't want to sit through another awkward dinner where the guy barely seems to be out of college.

So after Lindsay or Samuel drops him off, he runs upstairs and shuts himself up in his room, Skyping with Hannah and whoever happens to be in his room at the time. Usually Sunshine and most of the time Matheus. Together, those three are just off-the-wall.

Sometimes, if Damian gets home early enough, Troy hasn't signed off yet. Troy was always the later sleeper of his two best friends, but even he eventually went to bed. Usually, though, that isn't the case; by the time Damian gets back home at nine, it's too late in Ireland for anybody to be up.

Samuel barges through Lindsay's constantly open front door, tossing his bag carelessly into the living room and hugging the first person he sees. It happens to be McKynleigh, who latches her legs around his waist in a wildly inappropriate manner. Samuel's face breaks into a wide grin, and he brings both of them down onto the couch, squeezing all of the air out of her lungs.

Damian enters the living room much more slowly, stepping in cautiously. The regulars are all here, sprawled around doing homework or just hanging out. Lindsay herself remains to be seen—

A small body crashes into him from the side, accompanied by a small squeal. "Damian!"

Aware of his aversion to touch, the rest of Damian's friends and two of Lindsay's friends sensitively mob him in a messy group hug. Samuel rolls his eyes before wrapping his long arms around everyone.

"Oh god... I can't breathe," Damian gasps. Lindsay's head is buried in his neck and she's unable to remove it because Samuel's grip binds them all tighter together. She laughs something into his collarbone; Damian freezes up at the sudden realization that five bodies are pressed tight him, and four of those bodies are female.

"Samuel, you can put Damian out of his misery now," McKynleigh laughs, trying to slip out from under Samuel's arm. When he releases, Lindsay and her theater friend Kay bounce off into a wall, cracking up at Damian's incredibly red face.

Damian slowly regains sensory control and promptly curls up in a corner on a single-seater couch, where everybody sits in front of him and nobody can sneak up behind and back-attack him. Kay joins McKynleigh in flipping through the week's photos, selecting action shots. Samuel pulls out his own laptop, pulls out headphones, and shuts himself off from the world to listen to his music. And Lindsay is looking at him.

Contrary to his normal reaction, Damian doesn't drop his gaze. He just lifts one eyebrow and Lindsay does the same, initiating an informal staring competition.

Why did he ever think she looked like Ashley? The hair color maybe, but there are a million girls out there with the same hair color. And the fact that she plays soccer. Nowhere as good as Ashley, definitely; even Damian himself had never outmaneuvered Ashley. But then again, he'd never played Ashley one-on-one; she'd always partnered with Troy, and Damian's pretty sure they used their twin telepathy to its full extent.

Their eyes are just so different. Their personalities are different. They're two different people, separated by thousands of miles. They have no connection to each other. So why did he draw that line linking Lindsay to Ashley?

Lindsay makes funny faces, trying to make him blink, but then she finally looks away. She doesn't blink; she looks away uncomfortably. Damian realizes that he might have been getting a little intense, zoning out again.

Lindsay pulls out her phone and sends off a quick text. Moments later, Damian's phone buzzes. _What are you thinking about?_

Damian looks up at her incredulously. She's sitting ten feet away. She only smiles, and Damian gives her one last weird glance before texting back. _Just about home_.

_Do you miss the people there?_

_Terribly._

_You're still in contact with some of them?_

_Not really. They're all asleep by the time I get home._

_You can't contact them now?_

* * *

><p>Troy's face when confronted with five faces squeezed into one screen is priceless. "Oy!" he yelps. "Who are all these people?"<p>

"Greetings from America!" McKynleigh drawls in an overworked accent Lindsay previously labeled as _Southern_.

"How are you doing?" Damian laughs as Samuel's dreads fall over his face. "Gross, keep your hair out of this, Samuel."

"These your friends, eh?" Troy grins. "What time is it over there?"

"Six," Lindsay announces, practically placing her head in Damian's lap to fit. Even though McKynleigh's laptop sits on the coffee table, it's difficult to squeeze everybody into the screen of the tiny camera: McKynleigh and Samuel crouch overhead, and Kay barely squeaks into the frame from her position kneeling on the ground.

"It's almost two in the morning," Troy informs. "I've been working on a paper but was about to crash when I saw your call."

Damian points up at Samuel. "This is Samuel, the monster... and McKynleigh, the photographer." McKynleigh brings her camera into the screen and snaps a shot of their conversation windows side by side. "Kay, the creeper, and Lindsay, the..." Damian's not sure how to qualify Lindsay. "...the landlady," he finishes lamely.

"Where the hell did creeper come from?"

Damian looks down at Kay. "I just met you half an hour ago and the first thing you did was mob-hug me. I'm not sure what else to call you."

Troy looks closely at the screen. "I swear, in the darkness, I'd say your friend Lindsay looks quite similar to my sister."

Lindsay clasps her hands to her heart. "Well, I'm flattered."

Troy laughs easily, running his fingers through his brown hair. "I'm sure Damian gets along just great with you. All of you. Not letting us hold you back, are we, Damian?"

Damian shifts uncomfortably. "No. I'm fine."

Something in Troy's body language indicates his skepticism, but he lets it slide. Samuel covers the awkward moment with a loud laugh. "Holding Damian back? That's almost impossible, he's always out there just begging for attention."

"He won't get off our backs," McKynleigh groans melodramatically. "There's no restraint when it comes to his inescapable bear hugs."

"BEAR HUGS!" Lindsay screams, and within seconds, Damian is suffocated under four bodies.

It's through this tangle of limbs—over Lindsay's shoulder, between Samuel's bicep and McKynleigh's elbow—that Damian spots a familiar figure enter Troy's room, looking for her mp3 player. She takes a peek at the Skype screen, waves brightly, and leaves.

Damian pushes through his friends' bodies, reaching a hand towards the screen. "Ashley!"

* * *

><p><em><span>Featured songs<span>_:

"_Lucky" by Jason Mraz ft Colbie Cailat  
><em>"_Hair" by Lady Gaga  
><em>"_Alone" by Heart  
><em>"_Cry Me a River" by Michael Buble_

_Author's Rant_

_Ha, back to Damian again... I can't get enough of him hehe. But now Troy and Ashley have been established as real people, not figments of Damian's imagination. Yes, they are original characters (as much as the term makes me want to barf.) I really, really don't like OCs, but I can permit their usage if they don't play a prominent role. So I'll use OCs as background characters; they're just there as extras, like the people who dance in the music videos but don't really ever talk. They might play one role, but then they'll disappear into the background again and the spotlight will shift once again to the canon characters._

_Wow. I am floored by **WackyWoe, EverybodyLovesNiley, NileyIsTheBombDiggity, **and **Slotes123**, all of whom reviewed EVERY chapter all at once. Like seriously, you guys are the bomb diggity haha. And then another shout out to **xxBlaineXKurtxx, ForeverYoursEmma, Shelby-Belby, **and** xIchig0x** for heeding my pleas to review both of the double-posted chapters! That flood of reviews got me writing like crazy on Saturday... I woke up, wrote up this chapter, edited it a bit, then went and saw Harry Potter 7.2, sat in awe and nostalgia for a while (it's over! It's finally over! Nooo!), and then went back to writing. Heh heh. _

_This chapter is called "Recollection" because it involves people thinking about the past: Hannah recalling the duets and Damian contemplating his history in Ireland. The reason I did Hannah's recollection was simply because I needed to move the story along time-wise - so I just skipped two weeks ahead into the future, then had Hannah remember all the performances that happened last week. Damian's recollection is more plot-driven, obviously._

_About song selections: Charice did an amazing cover of "Alone" (live = no auto-tune!) and she hit those notes perfectly. It was amazing even when watching it on Youtube. This story features a lot more Sunshine - it's actually sort of a canon-complaint on Sunshine Corazon's part because she was supposed to be a recurring role just like Sam Evans... and somehow, Sam Evans ended up in every episode where Sunshine got three brief appearings throughout the entire season. _

_Who's ready for Pairability tonight?_


	11. Carnival I

Lindsay's parents serve tacos half an hour after Troy signs off and goes to bed, so Damian stuffs random foods into his tortilla, goes into the backyard, and stares into space for some deep thinking.

Ashley hadn't turned around when he'd yelled her name, and Troy didn't bother calling her back. His facial expression said it all: _You're not over us yet, are you?_ But it's hard for Damian to move on when there's a physical reminder of what he had in front of him every day. Or what he's turned into a physical reminder: sometimes, he can't particularly remember Ashley's face anymore, because whenever he tries to conjure up the image in his mind, he sees another girl's face.

And that's the worst thing. Because Damian still has strong feelings for the original, but he can't see anything but the one sitting five feet away, disputing her eye color with McKynleigh. And now those feelings are getting confused and redirecting themselves at the new girl, but the new girl is almost nothing like the original soul. They are two different people... it just doesn't seem right that he's falling for the second because she's similar to the first.

Samuel waves a hand in front of his face, and Damian focuses on the sight of everybody staring at him. Lindsay looks slightly apologetic, saying, "I shouldn't have made you introduce us to your other friend if you didn't feel comfortable about it... do you feel homesick?"

"Just a little bit." He casually swallows a mouthful of food so everybody will stop staring at him; it works, and everybody resumes eating.

"But you're not alone, you know?" Lindsay continues. "You know you got us, right?"

Damian smiles. "Yeah, I got plenty of people here too." An idea occurs to him. "Hey guys, next week there's a carnival coming to Lima."

"Yeah, it comes by Carmel after Lima," Samuel recalls. "What about it?"

"Oh, well, some of my friends from my school are planning on giving a show there, so maybe you guys could come over and meet them."

"Ha, competing schools making friends? No way," Samuel leers sarcastically.

"What he really means is that we'd love to come," McKynleigh grins. "What sort of show are you talking about?"

"Show choir."

McKynleigh's eyes light up at the same time Kay lets out a groan. "Like Glee club?" the two say simultaneously.

Damian nods curiously. "What was that about?"

"Show choir dresses are awful, for one," Kay begins.

"I'll give you that one," McKynleigh admits. "But com'on, singing and epic dancing! All at once!"

"But so many of the songs just don't have the emotional background behind them. That's why you have theater!" Kay looks at Damian shrewdly. "Please tell me you're not in show choir."

Damian shrugs, not giving anything away. "I was just thinking we could go on some rides, or look at the cows."

"The world's tallest cow by two millimeters!" McKynleigh exclaims brightly. "He's there every year, but I swear, there's going to be a year when they accidentally mix him up with the show cows and chop him up into steaks for the Sunday grill."

Samuel lets out a bark of a laugh. "Even then I wouldn't fork out $10 for a 'hometown grilled steak.' Give me a break, every year the price goes up and all they do is add more pepper."

Lindsay grins. "Of course we'll be there."

* * *

><p>"Mr. Schuester, if you have not been successful in finding a suitable number to best showcase my vocal... I mean, our club's vocal strengths, I would like to suggest a Broadway style dance number—"<p>

"No, Rachel... I've decided. A... certain situation has made me realize this week that I've been too uptight and unyielding, and I want to apologize to you, especially Kurt, for ignoring your requests."

Rachel throws up her hands in exasperation.

"So I'll support any setlist of performances that the club as an entirety would like to compile: three songs to fill a twenty minute time slot with five minutes before and after for set up and clean up." The entire room erupts into excited chatter, which barely calms when Mr. Schuester continues, "I only ask that you not repeat an episode of _Push it_."

Hannah turns to Matheus incredulously. "_Push it_?" she mouths.

"Sounds like a mini-porno," Matheus whispers back.

"You're one to talk, Mr. Roll-Your-Body," Sunshine giggles.

Rachel immediately slides to the front of the room, ready to take control yet again, but Kurt stands up and bellows from his seat, "We. Are. Doing. Britney."

"I can do that," Brittany raises her hand confidently. "In fact, I know that I'm all better than you, so let me suggest that we do..."

* * *

><p>Cameron stares at the ceiling again. Ever since he found out about Marissa having a boyfriend, he can't stop thinking about her. Strange, how he could leave her behind and forget about her for sixteen months and then suddenly see her one day and be thinking about her for the next three weeks.<p>

But that's what he's doing right now. After all, she was his first. First and only. But then, his freshman year, he stopped needing. He didn't need anybody. He didn't need her the way she needed him. In fact, Cameron stopped feeling... anything. He just felt sort of numb. It was a numbness he could survive, and he continued to cruise through life, going through the motions of school and interacting with people. He became complacent, chill, content to sit by himself and stare blankly into space while the rushing world flew by in meaningless chatter.

That's why his parents moved him to Dalton Academy. Quieter, more relaxed and student focused, completely tolerant, and full of successful young men that would hopefully be able to relate to him. He got lucky by becoming roommates with Wesley Montgomery, one of the leaders of an expressive acapella men's choir called the Warblers; they slowly brought Cameron out of his protective shell, and he began to notice the world around him again.

And finally, full circle back to a part of his life he'd forgotten till a couple weeks ago.

He's been talking a lot with Hannah lately. He simply doesn't know how to approach Marissa. Does she really want to hear from her first boyfriend? Will the fact that she's currently dating somebody soften her reaction to his apology, or make her angrier?

Hannah seems more inclined to talk about the weather than about Marissa, but Cameron doesn't who else to talk to. After all, he and Hannah have been neighborhood best friends since she moved into the empty house next door. She's one of his closest friends, and they've shared plenty of secrets before.

"Hello? Did you just space out again?"

Cameron shifts his cell phone. "Yeah," he admits. "Sorry. Hey, do you know if that fair's coming to Lima again?"

"Yeah, it comes every year. Heeeeeey, you're not planning to spy on the New Directions, are you?"

"Huh?"

"We're going to showcase our talent this year."

"Your Glee club is putting a performance on? This I gotta see."

"I forbid you from coming. No. You cannot spy on us."

"Who said I was spying? When I get there, I better see you pull out the backwards worm."

"Ha! Not happening. That's a part of our very, very, very small arsenal of secret weapons. If you bring your Warblers with you, I will personally set Rachel Berry on your asses."

"Ah! God! No!"

"Yes I will. So I better not see you anywhere near that stage, unless you're bringing me cookies. Then I'll think about it."

"What are you guys doing?"

"Why would I tell you? Sneaky, sneaky. But truthfully, we don't really know yet. Berry's being a solo whore again, but Mercedes is fighting to get in there and Quinn wants some action too. It's like Marissa said, just a big ball of diva drama." Hannah pauses suddenly, as if she just said something taboo.

"So if Marissa said that, why did you join?"

Hannah relaxes. "Well, I have friends there... and I like singing, sort of... and really, my mom said that if I didn't find some high school club to join, she'd find a sport for me. Like swimming or wrestling."

"Wrestling? Geez, please no."

"I know! It was a desperate decision between Gardening and Young Republicans' Club when two international students happened to fall out of the sky into my lap of Glee."

"Lap... of Glee."

"And that is the complete story of Hannah and the Glee club. Really, swaying in the background and backup vocals aren't that bad. At least for my voice. Sunny should be able to shine more, but she's such a pushover that she wouldn't have gotten a solo unless Matheus had stepped in. He argued convincingly about racial balancing and stuff. Which then set Mercedes off and Santana tried to bite off Rachel's head."

"Hell. Women."

"Yeah, tell me about it. The rest of us are just sort of hiding in the background till the dust clears. Tina actually has a sweet, sugary voice, but she's so invisible anyways. So, am I going to see you at the fair next week?"

"You just said I wasn't allowed."

"Shoot, boy. It's not like you were going to listen to me anyways."

Cameron smirks. "No, I wasn't."

"Then you better bring them cookies. Rachel Berry still stands."

* * *

><p>McKynleigh motions Lindsay over to her computer. "Hey, check this out."<p>

Lindsay drops her homework to travel over to McKynleigh's laptop. It's pretty late at night; McKynleigh's the last one here, and it's only because the internet at her house is down and she needs to select and upload her photos to the school website by tomorrow. "What is it?"

McKynleigh's eyes sparkle. "So, I was taking pictures of the guys during soccer practice again: skins versus shirts. And guess who was on skins?" she squeals tantalizingly.

Lindsay knows she probably shouldn't feed the fire, but she looks anyways. And her heart drops. It's Damian dribbling the ball expertly, his bare torso glistening with perspiration. "Geez, Miki," she yelps, averting her eyes instantly. "You've been a very naughty girl."

"Look," McKynleigh continues to trill. "There's more..."

"No," Lindsay refuses, getting off the couch with her hands over her eyes, but McKynleigh grabs one of her wrist and yanks her back down. "This is so wrong. Miki, this is so, so wrong."

"And you like it."

Damian dodging an opponent, his eyes focused and looking for openings. Damian lowering his shoulder into and pushing Samuel away, shielding the ball with his bare body. Damian drinking water, his head tilted upwards to expose his neck. Lindsay squeaks nervously. "Why are these all of Damian?"

"I composed a little slideshow, just for a special someone. I've already sent the powerpoint to this special somebody's email for pleasurable viewing at any time."

Lindsay lets out a miniature howl of pure freak-out. "Miki! That is... that's disgusting! I do _not_ like Damian. Not that way." She throws up her hands dramatically and collapses onto another couch. "You're hopeless."

McKynleigh smirks to herself.

* * *

><p>"You're doing it wrong! It's supposed to be like—"<p>

"Like hell I'm doing it wrong, hon; just because you're standing in front of everybody else—"

"Bitches, stop screaming with your vajayjays and just do the damn choreography Britt-Britt planned out. God, if only—"

"Thanks, San, but I can speak for myself. It's okay that you guys suck, but could you at least try to suck gracefully?"

Hannah sighs as another all-out, no-holds-barred catfight breaks down on the auditorium stage. Eventually, Finn manages to pry Rachel from the tangle of limbs, and the fight dies away as the problem is removed.

Rachel tries to compose herself to deliver another compelling speech about the essence of cooperation and teamwork, working to the same common goal to achieve the most profitable results, but it's Marissa that speaks the loudest when she silently walks off the stage.

"Where are you going?" Rachel asks in confusion.

Marissa turns around just as she's about to exit the auditorium. "Don't get me wrong," she enunciates. "I like Glee, and I like you guys. But I've got better things to do with my time." And she walks out. After a second or two, Damian runs after her.

Finn immediately takes over with a pep talk about sticking together even when Mr. Schue's on a business trip, but Damian doesn't hear him as he jogs into the hallway and finds Marissa walking rapidly away. "Hey, wait up!"

Marissa looks over her shoulder, a tiny look of defiance on her face. "Yeah?"

Damian stops just short of colliding into her. "Uh, look. I know that sometimes that the Glee club seems like a big ball of suck. And that Rachel is nuts and Mercedes needs attention and Santana is a bitch and Brittany…" His entire face flushes red. "Uh… Brittany is… um, Brittany."

"Yes, and I have better things to do that spend 45 minutes of every hour listening to verbal sparring."

"Yeah. Sometimes I think the same way too. I'm just in the club because Hannah and Sunshine really like singing."

Marissa turns to fully face him. "I thought you liked singing too. Your voice is amazing."

Damian grins modestly. "Thanks. That too, not that it really matters anyways; if Rachel wants somebody to harmonize with her, it's going to be Finn. The thing is, why did you join the Glee club?"

Marissa answers immediately. "So I could be with you." When Damian begins to blush, she quickly clarifies, "I mean, as a couple, we've got to do something together that we love, right?" She widens her eyes, parts her lips, and clasps one of his hands in her own in mock adoration of a breathless lover.

Damian laughs uncomfortably. "You're really good at that. Acting."

She pecks him on the cheek. "And you're not. Try not to look like you're going to pee your pants."

"So what are you going to do next weekend, if you're not doing this?"

"You haven't been paying attention in International club? We're doing a joint booth with the Environmental club, selling overpriced Italian sodas and elephant ears."

Damian gives her the strangest look, and she laughs out loud. "Elephant ears are just fried dough with cinnamon sugar sprinkled on top," she explains. "As an officer in both clubs, I think it's probably more important that I volunteer my time there instead of with Glee."

"You're not even going to see us perform?" Damian asks in disappointment.

Marissa notes the _us_ in his statement, indicating that he doesn't plan on skipping with her as well. "Maybe I'll take a break and come over," she says lightly, still clutching his hands in hers. Nobody's watching their interaction, but she's still playing along. Why?

She releases his hands, and but he continues holding onto hers.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Next up is the __Chapter of Pairing Misery! __At 200 reviews I will double-post yet again -but only after I post the Chapter of Pairing Misery, because that one deserves to be on its own._


	12. Carnival II

The fall carnival happens on a beautiful weekend filled with yellow autumn leaves spiraling down from the shedding trees above. Lindsay wanders through the park, her eyes searching for a particular face. One face out of hundreds.

"He said he wouldn't get here for another ten minutes," McKynleigh calls out from behind Lindsay. She's waiting for Samuel, who's buying a hot dog.

"Who says I'm looking for Damian?" Lindsay retorts, whirling back on her friends.

"You just said so yourself," Samuel laughs. "Don't worry about it. We've been observing you for around two weeks... and we've noticed certain... things."

A small blush creeps its way up Lindsay's neck, but she represses it by lunging for Samuel's hot dog. "Give me some of that."

Samuel unwraps the other half of the hot dog and offers it to Lindsay; he then bites off one end as Lindsay eats off the other side. McKynleigh giggles and snaps a shot of the interaction.

"Try not to think about that too deeply," Samuel grins.

"Sick, with you? No way."

"I'm sure you wished it was someone else," McKynleigh kids mercilessly.

"Lady and the Tramp, hot dog style," Samuel adds.

"Was that just a sex pun?" McKynleigh gasps. "Samuel, you are officially awesome."

Lindsay tugs at her scarf in frustration. "You guys... I'm just going to ignore you."

Okay, she's already admitted it to herself, but she isn't about to tell her friends about her latest crush. There's been way too many times when she'd fallen for somebody who had absolutely no interest in her. She doesn't excel at soccer no matter how hard she works at it and all the guys in theater are gay; her academic record is nearly perfect, but only Stan appreciates that, and Stan's just plain creepy.

But Damian is a really nice guy. He has the most adorable expressions and a friendly if not shy personality. She really likes his eyes; they're literally the windows to his soul, and she can read so much into him by just looking into them. Plus, she finds him staring at her a lot. That's got to be a positive sign, right?

"The program says that McKinley High School's Glee club is putting on a performance at two. We should totally check it out!" McKynleigh exclaims.

"Glee club?" Samuel makes a face. "Are you serious? They'll probably dance horribly to the sappiest music in existence."

"So maybe you could suggest some song choices," McKynleigh laughs. "Though funk, grunge, and soul is not the typical Glee-ful music."

"Samuel!" Damian runs up from behind them. "Glad you guys could make it!"

Damian's dressed warm, with a leather jacket over his usual zip-up hoodie over a V-neck shirt. He's also styled his hair—something Lindsay's never seen before, because the only times she's ever seen him is after soccer practice, and Samuel says he takes a quick shower afterward.

Then she realizes she's staring and averts her eyes. "Hey Damian!" she chirps. Is... is he staring at her too? She's only been around him after her practice as well, when she's simple in a ponytail and plain white shirt. Today, she's wearing a flowy blue speckled shirt and knee-high leather boots over black skinny jeans. Her dark hair tumbles around her face in tight waves, barely hiding golden chandelier earrings.

"You... look really nice," Damian says sincerely. "Uh... so did you guys buy tickets?"

McKynleigh brings out several sheets of tickets. "This carnival keeps losing more rides each year," she complains. "I don't even know why we spend money for five minutes of lame spinny rides."

"Where are your WMHS friends?":Lindsay questions.

Damian smiles apologetically. "Matheus really wanted to try the Zipper, the oval-shaped Ferris Wheel one with the loose cages that spin around? Hannah's got so much weight, so Matheus used her momentum to keep them in constant motion and she puked two minutes in."

Lindsay and McKynleigh crack up. "Is she alright?"

"I think so. Sunshine's never seen a llama before, so they headed over to the barns," Damian explains. "We can meet them at the show choir performance."

Lindsay grabs her sheet of tickets with one hand and Damian's elbow with the other. "Alright, let's try the Zipper!" she announces. Damian shoots Samuel a _Help me_ look over his shoulder, and Samuel just laughs.

* * *

><p>It's almost 1:30. Cameron has been standing underneath this tree for almost twenty minutes, just working up the courage to walk over to the elephant ear booth and hand Marissa two dollars for a fried piece of dough that he doesn't really want to eat. He just wants to talk to her.<p>

He also feels like a creeper.

Cameron's head jerks to the right when he hears his name called. Blaine's walking over towards him, an arm raised in greeting. Wes trails behind him. Both are dressed in designer polos with the collars flipped; Blaine's eyes are obscured by a pair of large aviator sunglasses and his hair is slicked smoothly to the side. Cameron, on the other hand, has his hands shoved deep in skinny jeans; his red and blue plaid shirt hangs open to reveal a simple white shirt with two pendants hung around his neck, and his hair is as messy as usual. "You got those elephant ears yet?" Blaine asks in confusion.

Cameron jerks his head in the booth's direction, and Blaine peers in that direction. "Yeah?"

"That's her."

Blaine does a double take. "Okay. So go talk to her."

Cameron purses his lips. "It's not that easy."

"Sure it is. You just walk up, order whatever, and tell her you'd like to meet her out back."

"I haven't talked to her for a year and a half."

"Better late than never, right?"

Cameron doesn't say anything.

Blaine sighs. "If it's so hard, I'll go tell her."

"Are you kidding? That's even worse."

Blaine deposits three crisp dollar bills into Cameron's hand. "Then go get her, man."

Cameron gulps and walks forward. The line isn't very large. There's a chance that she'll spot him before he even gets to talk to her. And what is he going to do then? Smile? Wave? Ignore her? And what will she do? Flee? Freak out? A million possibilities whirl around in his head as he joins the back of the line, trying to remain unseen. He twiddles his thumbs and scuffs the ground with his converse sneakers uneasily, only to find Blaine suddenly behind him.

"Hey man, just act natural," his roommate encourages. "Talk to me until you get to her."

Cameron grins weakly. "Thanks. It's just..."

"So this program says that our show choir Sectionals competition, the New Directions, is putting on a performance. Wanna go check it out?"

"I'm going to have to find me some cookies to bribe my friend then," Cameron grins as the line moves forward. "She swore she'd release one of their crazy female dogs on me if I didn't appease her with cookies."

"Female dog?"

"Apparently there are many of them in the club."

"That's got to do wonders for their teamwork."

"Easy enough for you to say, pre-established Warbler soloist." Cameron is relieved to feel the pent-up tension draining away. He risks a glance at Marissa, two people away, taking money and calling out orders.

She's heart-stoppingly gorgeous. It's ridiculous. She's everything that she wanted to be. Her body is finally perfect, just like she wanted it to be two years ago.

He's in front of her now, and she freezes at the sight of him. But then she seals it up and plasters a fake smile over it. "What do you want?" she chirrups sweetly; her acting mask is on, hiding boiling emotions underneath.

"Two elephant ears," Cameron says simply, sliding his and Blaine's money across the counter. When she reaches for it, he quickly places his fingers over hers and tries to keep his composure. It wouldn't do if both of them started freaking out at each other. "I'm sorry about what I did to you. We need to talk," he says as openly as he can, putting as much honest emotion in the words. "Can I meet you out back?"

Marissa's fingers are rigid underneath his, betraying her disposition. She slides her fingers stiffly away from his, taking the money with her, and disappears into the booth. The timid Japanese girl he'd seen that Thursday night takes her place.

Cameron glances at Blaine and Wes; Blaine gives him a curt nod, and Cameron races around to the back of the booth.

* * *

><p>Marissa doesn't want to step outside. She doesn't want to face Cameron. Not when she hasn't prepared herself. If she goes out there right now, she will get mad. And then she'll probably do something stupid. She's already angry. When she'd seen him four weeks ago, she'd waited for a phone call, a Facebook message, something. But yet again, he'd remained silent, and she'd been disappointed again. Now, sixteen months plus four extra weeks of silence has got her boiling inside, and she's not sure she can go outside and hold herself together.<p>

But eventually she does walk outside, her face set in an expressionless mask. She remains next to the booth's back door, her arms folded. Waiting for him to say the first word, to take the first leap of faith, to take the first fall.

He's standing twenty feet away, looking small and fragile and bashful like the first time she met him. "I'm sorry," he says finally, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I never meant to—"

Marissa's lip curls in an _Are you serious?_ expression. Apparently, too much of her internal struggle must have shown through, because Cameron stutters off into silence, looking thoroughly intimidated. Marissa tries to reign her emotions back in, but they all flow out angrily when she speaks. "Why are you here?" she growls softly. "You broke my heart and then you disappeared without a word off the face of the planet for sixteen months. Then you show up four weeks ago, but you don't even approach me till today, when I'm working at an elephant ear booth. So why wait so long and speak up now?"

Cameron shoves his hands even deeper in his pockets and looks down at his toes. "Because I was a coward before, and now I'm owing up to it." Marissa remains silent, still staring icily at him. Cameron tries to look her in the eye, but it's like trying to look into a laser. It hurts, and it could burn holes into your retina. If looks could kill... "Please, Marissa, hear me out. I didn't communicate with you after I moved because you didn't listen to me when I was trying to tell you... trying to tell you that you changed."

The world stops. It's as if the world just stopped turning; all sound is sucked out of the environment for that one second before Marissa speaks again. "Of course I changed. I grew up."

"No. I... we drifted apart because you weren't you anymore." Cameron's voice becomes stronger as he organizes his thoughts together; he had always been a verbal thinker. "You used to be different and you stood out and you were proud because you stood out. You didn't care what anybody thought—"

"I cared about what you thought," Marissa retorts. And she did. So maybe she didn't care about her hopeless hair back in seventh grade, and she was alright with not having her two front teeth... but as Cameron's other half back in the day, she appreciated it when he complimented her.

Cameron pulls his hands out of his pockets so he can talk with them. "No, that's the thing. You didn't. You were you and you weren't anybody else; that's what I loved about you. When you went around and changed that to be like a Cheerio—"

The whole point of the matter. "Isn't that what you wanted?" She walks slowly towards him, but her arms are folded across her chest stubbornly.

"Why would I want that? Why would I want you to drink strawberry sand smoothies? Why would you _stop_ eating?"

"Because I wasn't good enough for you. Love is an action; it just doesn't switch on and off whenever it feels like it. Something happened to your perception of things to make you stop loving me the way I was then, so I changed myself to fit."

A brief sequence of memories flash through Marissa's mind.

* * *

><p>"<em>You look pretty beat up. What happened?"<em>

_Marissa looks up from her hospital bed. A chubby girl in a Junior Volunteer shirt takes out the trash and checks for the presence of gloves. "I crashed my bike," Marissa replies in embarrassment._

"_Must have been some bike crash. Surviving that while still looking gorgeous, I gotta respect you for that. Hey, I'm Hannah."_

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey Cam, this is my friend Marissa!"<em>

_The kid is as skinny as a toothpick, contrasting sharply to Hannah's plumpness. He looks like he could break as easily as one as well. Gigantic square, black framed glasses barely hang onto a small nose. His hair is a bushy mess._

"_Go ahead, Cam. She doesn't bite." Hannah grins goofily at Marissa. "Don't worry, once you get to know him, you'll never, ever, _ever_ see him like this again. So gobble it up, because this is the only time you'll see Cameron with his mute button on!"_

* * *

><p><em>She was right.<em>

* * *

><p><em>Shared glances sharing inside jokes. Long nights on the phone talking about nothing. Secrets and lives spilled open for the other to see. Sneaking time away from the third wheel Hannah, who isn't that hard to shake because she devotes herself to so many other people. They don't ever do anything serious beyond the occasional make-out session, because Cameron, despite being rather outgoing, is still very shy with physical contact, and Marissa doesn't feel that they need to be broadcasted. All she need is him.<em>

* * *

><p><em>Something changes between them. Where he had an opinion on everything, he now he hardly speaks. He doesn't call, and when she does, he seems distant. Their time spent together seems meaningless, with nothing but heavy silence to fill the void. He closes himself off completely, from the world and from her. She throws herself at him, lays herself bare and tries to hold onto him, but he's already slipped away. <em>

_Maybe it's high school. Maybe it's because Cameron's a freshman in high school while Marissa's still an eighth grader. Maybe there are prettier girls in high school that come from different middle schools. Marissa tugs at her untamed, frizzy red hair and frowns at her dumpy body in the mirror. Maybe... maybe the reason why Cameron doesn't love her anymore is simply because his standards have risen, and she isn't good enough anymore._

* * *

><p><em>He tells her once that she's beautiful the way she is. Cameron's eyes focus from his ever-distant gaze to lock onto her, and he says that she doesn't have to change, that she's fine the way she is.<em>

_She's only "fine" the way she is. So she tries harder, and the boys at her junior high begin to notice._

* * *

><p><em>He tells her another time: "You don't have to change for me. You're perfect the way you are." And then he relapses into silence, and she can't bring herself to believe him.<em>

_Because how can she be perfect if he doesn't even see her?_

* * *

><p><em>Noah Puckerman, famous already for sexing up half the girls in the eighth grade class, hits on her. She shuts him down and rushes with Hannah to meet Cameron after school.<em>

_But he isn't there. And he never comes._

* * *

><p><em>After six months of waiting, she finally takes up Puck on his offer. They go to a high school party and everybody's looking at her grinding and booty popping against Puck and she's feeling better than she <em>_has in the past year... but when the bedroom door begins to close, she can't bring herself to it because she can only see one face._

_She locks herself in the bathroom and can't stop crying._

* * *

><p>Marissa angles her body away from Cameron so she doesn't have to look him in the face. She can't maintain her composure while looking in the face that holds so many memories and lost opportunities. "Sixteen months of silence, and you waltz in and expect me to act like none of that ever happened?"<p>

He's suddenly too close to her for comfort. Intimately close, like a friend comforting another. And they are nowhere near that. She steps away, and, as she does, she sheds the bag slung over her shoulder and whips it into his side. Her bag is full of clothes, so it barely bounces off his body, but the action releases a lot of the pent-up rage she's been holding onto for their entire separation. He can't just expect things to return to normal. Hot anger pools in her eyes, dripping down her face. "Don't... don't... I can't... I can't forgive you," she breathes heavily as he freezes two feet away. "Not after sixteen months. Just because I wasn't good enough for you. I can't."

"That's not it—"

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"But I did!" Cameron explodes. He runs his fingers through his hair in agitation. "I told you half a million times, but you were stuck in your own self-depreciating world where you could never be good enough for yourself! I don't need you to be skinny or drop-dead gorgeous or sexy, I just want Marissa. That's all I've ever wanted. Just Marissa."

"Sure you told me that," Marissa hisses back. "Maybe not so much half a million times, but you just spouted out those words and then disappeared in your own world where nothing existed but yourself. You didn't really mean those words! You couldn't really say 'You're perfect the way you are' and then go back to ignoring me the next second! That doesn't mean anything! And I am me now. This," she says, indicating her slim figure, "is Marissa."

"It isn't the Marissa I knew. Right now all I see is a fake mask."

She doesn't even think this time; she's beating him over the head with her bag full of clothes again. "Fake? You think I'm being fake? I... I..." Her voice is going to reach supersonic levels anytime soon. Cameron tries to ward off her soft, cushy weapon and gets his hand tangled in the straps. Restraining her attack only serves to add frustration to her anger, and without thinking, Marissa slaps him as hard as she can across the face.

The sting doesn't settle in until a second later, and it isn't until several seconds after that when Cameron finally regains control over his frozen muscles. The delay in reaction time keeps him from catching the look of horror on Marissa's face, which quickly collapses under bitter anger.

"Then whoever you see in your mind is a figment of your sad imagination that doesn't exist anymore." And she leaves him.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_I re-wrote that last scene from Cameron's POV five times before I finally changed to Marissa's POV... and I'm very satisfied with the result. Before, when everything was from Cameron's POV, Marissa just seemed like a bitch. Writing from Marissa's POV allowed me to give a lot more background information, plus the next arcs center around Marissa frequently, so I need you guys to actually like her!_

_BTW, I am way too proud of my sex pun haha..._


	13. Carnival III

_**Featured songs:**  
><em>_"Sweet Dreams" by Beyonce  
><em>"_I'm Not That Girl" by Elphaba from Wicked_

* * *

><p>Lindsay stumbles clumsily against Damian, clutching tightly onto his arm. "How... how is it... that you can laugh in a free-tumbling cage sliding up and down the axis of a rotating vertical wheel... yet you can't ride in Brittany's car without your legs being reduced to jelly afterward?"<p>

Damian hauls Lindsay to her feet, keeping his arm as a firm support. McKynleigh snaps photos of them mischievously as Lindsay weakly tries to stand up straight. "Mind you, I was _not_ like this the first three times we went on this ride!" Lindsay shouts at the non-recording camera. "That fourth time though... that was a bit... that was—" She suddenly leans away from Damian and doubles over. Damian immediately reaches for her brown locks, pulling them behind her head and out of the way. He accidentally pulls up on one of her large chandelier earrings, causing her to wince; but she doesn't throw up.

After a few seconds, she brings herself upright, gently teasing her stretched earring back to its free position. "You really have a bit of experience with that, don't you?" she grins.

Damian grins ruefully. "I had a friend..." He then remembers that they _have_ met Ashley and Troy. "Ashley. She had a very weak stomach."

"My look alike, huh? Then I'm glad you learned a thing or two from her so you can apply them to me." She flashes a 1000-watt smile and Damian grins in return. Though Lindsay appears to be more stable and steady on her feet, she latches onto his arm again. As they keep walking through the various carnival rides, she gradually transitions to leaning her head against his shoulder.

If Damian doesn't think about it too much, he doesn't feel uncomfortable with Lindsay so close to him. It feels... right. It feels like old times. He knows he shouldn't encourage his mental association, but it's incredibly calming to him to slip back into memories of his old life. Even if it's just an echo of a memory, because this is America, not Ireland. And this is Lindsay—not Ashley.

Twenty feet away, Rachel Berry raises her head from Finn's shoulder, observing the two with eyes as sharp as a hawk's.

* * *

><p>"Isn't it a bad idea to eat after you've thrown up?" Matheus asks as Hannah stuffs her face with nachos.<p>

"Shut it, little man," Hannah mumbles. "You brought this on me. Besides, on the contrary, I believe it is necessary to refill my stomach, having just emptied it so violently."

"Yeah, about that, thanks for shooting out the other way."

"Oh yeah, no problem. I thought about it, but ultimately decided that, since you and Sunny are a pair, I probably better not piss you off. I like to keep my Asian friends."

"We're just friends," Matheus corrects. "Short buddies."

"Not to compound stereotypes, but stereotypically, you're perfect for each other! Want a nacho?"

Sunshine arrives at their table with elephant ears. "Stop eating so fast! You're going to choke on something. Besides, isn't it a bad idea to eat after you've thrown up?" she asks in concern.

"Matheus, tell her. Did Damian say he was gonna bring his soccer buddies to meet us?"

"They've seen the same cows year after year. He said that they'd meet us at the show."

Sunshine looks at her cell phone for the time. "So we've got an hour and a half. Do you think Rachel wants us there early for rehearsal?"

Tina speaks up, "Don't mind Rachel. Everybody could show up an hour before the show and she'd still be freaking out."

"What do you think of her Broadway selection?" Matheus laughs. "_My Junk_? I bet it sounds like a mini-porno on the program."

"Say what?" Mike yelps, sitting down next to Tina with two bowls of chili.

"At least it has enough lines for almost everybody," Hannah supplies. "I'm surprised she made the effort."

"It's only because Finn finally took her for some serious talking," Mike informs. "In the astronomy classroom."

"And she stole the snippet from Brittany's song," Tina adds. "She snuck in some harmony, and Santana gets some background wailing and Mercedes gets to go all chocolate thunder at the end. Happy ending for all divas involved."

Quinn and Sam pass by, arm in arm; Quinn smiles faintly at Hannah, a barely noticeable gesture that Hannah acknowledges with a tiny grin in return.

Sunshine turns around, barely catching a glimpse of Quinn's yellow sundress disappearing behind the Environmental club's elephant ear stand. "There's one diva who didn't get her solo," she reminds Tina.

"She's happy with her new beau, thank you very much," Tina sniffs, then leans over to nuzzle Mike's neck.

"Oh barf, cuteness," Hannah groans. "Go find a room."

Mike grins mischievously. "Maybe we will."

* * *

><p>Blaine finds Cameron sitting alone under a tree, his head held in his hands; there's a small bag tucked between his feet. Slowly, Blaine sits down next to his roommate and waits till he acknowledges his presence. After a full minute or so, Cameron lifts his head; his eyes are bloodshot.<p>

Blaine offers him a warm elephant ear. Cameron shakes his head.

After another period of silence, Cameron finally says, "I screwed up."

Blaine listens.

"I should have talked to her sooner. I shouldn't have given up on her so quickly. I should have at least let her know that she was fine the way she was, and that it was me who changed. I... I should have told her that I... had dysthymia."

Blaine remembers that first day when a quiet, skinny kid showed up at the Warblers meeting, only coming out of a reserved shell two minutes into his audition song with a steady voice under pressure and distinctive howl. Blaine also knows that Cameron has never admitted to himself about his mild depression coming into Dalton; he'd always explained it as independence, not caring... but really, he hadn't expressed any sort of emotion. The first couple months, Cameron had seemed more like an automaton than a person.

Cameron fingers the straps of the bag between his feet. Blaine peers inside; it appears to be a girls' clothes. Marissa's, maybe? Though why would she leave it with him?

Blaine puts a friendly arm around his roommate's shoulders. "Well, you told her most of what was on your mind, right?"

Cameron nods.

"Give her some time to think about it. And in the meanwhile, do something for her. Nothing too extravagant, but enough to catch her attention. Let her know you really mean it."

"She has a boyfriend."

"Talk to him then. Just communicate."

"I don't know..."

"Hey. Better to have said something and lost to have not said anything at all."

* * *

><p>Hannah gasps in exaggeration as Rachel arrives ten minutes late to rehearsal. They have twenty minutes until their time slot, which probably means that they're not going to rehearse <em>My Junk<em>. Meh, the choreography for background singers isn't that hard. Santana and Brittany are already going over their kickass routine, and they eye Rachel mischievously as she strides over and joins them.

"You're late," Brittany quips.

"I observed something rather disturbing that I would prefer not to talk about until I garner further evidence to back it up."

Santana shares a look with Brittany. "Sure, whatevs. Now try not to screw this up, RuPaul; it's not that hard."

* * *

><p>Marissa doesn't know what to think. Her head is spinning. So many words whirling around in her head, exchanges of sentiment she hadn't known until now, but she can't process it yet. She's been wandering aimlessly around the booths and rides with nothing but her phone in her back pocket; everything else she had, including her wallet, is still in her bag that she left with Cameron. He'd grabbed it to defend himself, so she dropped it...<p>

She shouldn't have lost her temper. She hit him. After all the hurt she's endured to make herself feel good enough, she went back and hurt the one who started it all. She's repeating history.

And it only makes her feel empty inside. She feels emotionally drained, and all she can do is wander with an expression of pure misery on her face.

"Do ya need a hug?"

Marissa painfully drags herself out of her pity party. There is a gorgeous Latina standing in front of her with a white headband in her straight black hair. She's wearing a lot of makeup, an extremely low cut v-neck dress, and gigantic hoop earrings, but her face is filled with sympathetic concern. Marissa doesn't really observe much else; she just nods once, and the girl gives her a soft hug. "There, there," she murmurs in a slight accent, patting Marissa on the back. "Don't hold it back, girl. Nobody's perfect. If he's done a number on ya, go ahead and let him know."

Marissa sniffles. Pity transforms to something stronger, more forceful. It uncoils in her stomach, forcing its way up to her heart.

The Latine girl holds her at arm's length. Her gaze is steady and strong. "Go ahead," she says firmly. Marissa nods, setting her face into a similarly hard expression.

From far away, somebody announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, the New Directions!"

Marissa sets off, anger threatening to boil over each step.

* * *

><p>The New Directions have gathered on the tiny stage that serves as their platform to raise awareness of Glee. Rachel is wearing a skimped-up Catholic school girl outfit, her small white dress shirt hitching up to reveal a tanned, toned stomach. Her plaid miniskirt is about six inches long and thigh-high white stockings accented with pink bows fail to cover all of her thighs; her hair is tied into pigtails with pink bows as well. Finn's eyes pop when she smiles coyly at him while walking onto the stage behind Santana and Brittany; they're also wearing differently accented uniforms.<p>

Santana is the first to swagger onto the stage and grab the microphone, with Rachel and Brittany dancing in the back.

_(Turn the lights on!)  
>Every night I rush to my bed with hopes that maybe I'll get a chance to see you when I close my eyes.<br>I'm going outta my head, lost in a fairytale. Can you hold my hands and be my guide?  
>Clouds filled with stars cover your skies and I hope it rains; you're the perfect lullaby.<br>What kind of dream is this?  
><em>

Santana begins to back up as Rachel struts forward, but suddenly a blur of red leaps onto the stage from the audience. Before Santana can pass off the mike to Rachel, Marissa has snatched it roughly and belts a modified chorus.

_You can be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare  
>Either way I, I need to wake up from you. (Turn the lights on!)<br>Sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare  
>Somebody pinch me, you're not so good for me. (Turn the lights on!)<br>My guilty torture, I gotta get out of here because when you are here, I am falling through air._

_Cause you're a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare  
>Either way I, I need to wake up from you. <em>

Marissa backs up slowly, raw anger leaking out of every pore, and hands off the mike to a confident Brittany, who spontaneously ad-libs through the second verse to match Marissa's nightmarish description of an ex-lover. Rachel blinks in shocked surprise through Brittany's improvisation, screwing up the rather complex belly-dancing routine while desperately trying to recall Marissa's modifications. She tries to shoot a murderous glare in Marissa's direction, only to find that the girl has disappeared to back stage.

* * *

><p>Damian's sprinting as fast as he can, but he's still going to be late. He completely lost track of time while hanging out with Lindsay and Samuel and McKynleigh, and it wasn't until he heard Santana's characteristic wail that he remembered he had a show to get to. He hurriedly tells Samuel about it and leaves them waiting in line for food; Lindsay looks like she wants to follow, but she's in the middle of paying.<p>

He reaches back stage just as Rachel repeats the chorus for the last time. The rest of the Glee club has already lined up on sidelines, ready to enter for the Broadway number. Damian darts around to backstage, where the costumes are stored.

He stops just short of frantically grabbing his stored stuff; Marissa's standing all alone, almost... waiting for him. She looks... terrible. An absolute mess. Damian's not sure how to react, but she stiffly walks towards him and he automatically moves to catch her. She collapses against him and begins to shiver violently, little sobs scraping through a choked throat. He just holds her as she buries her face in his jacket, clinging him for support.

_Hands touch, eyes meet, sudden silence, sudden heat.  
>Hearts leap in a giddy whirl.<br>He could be that boy... but I'm not that girl._

_Don't dream too far. Don't lose sight of who you are._  
><em>Don't remember that rush of joy.<em>  
><em>He could be that boy... I'm not that girl.<em>

"Marissa," he says softly. She doesn't hear him.

_Ev'ry so often we long to steal to the land of what-might-have-been;  
>But that doesn't soften the ache we feel when reality sets back in.<br>_

Marissa begins to compose herself, standing up on her own strength. Still, she hides her face in his shoulder. He can feel her uncontrolled breath against his neck. "I'm... I'm sorry," she chokes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't... I'm so sorry."

_Blithe smile, lithe limb, she who's winsome: she wins him.  
>Gold hair with a gentle curl—that's the girl he chose.<br>And Heaven knows I'm not that girl._

_Don't wish, don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart._  
><em>I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl. There's a girl I know;<em>  
><em>He loves her so... I'm not that girl.<em>

Damian makes eye contact with her. He needs to make it clear from the start. "We're friends," he says quietly, searching her eyes for comprehension. _I don't love you._ "We're just friends."

Marissa looks back at him miserably. _I'm not good enough._ "I know."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_I love all those people who keep reviewing: **ForeverYoursEmma, Shelby-Belby, xxBlaineXKurtxx, slotes123, EverybodyLovesNiley, EccentricElf23, Kieki13, savetonight**__**, symphonies in the dawn** (cool name, even if it isn't a real one)__**, **__**lucywatson, polarpi, ****flmnstry, Rouge, bethy, Calypso C, **and **Fanofyouuuu. **You guys keep me pumping out these chapters! Like seriously, I have a very short attention span when it comes to writing stories; if you didn't keep dropping me little lines, this story would have grinded to a halt last week (3-4 weeks is usually how long I write stories, whether or not people review.) _

_This story is going to remain strictly T... though I'm going to assume that, since you guys are all Glee Project watchers, you also watch Glee and are comfortable with boy-boy action. Yes? If not, I might just consolidate some of the more risque scenes into a different story altogether. Check out my alternate account **fleshflash** for M-rated stories._

_I have officially grown to love Damian/Marissa. I shipped Cameron/Ma__rissa when I first started brainstorming for this story, but by writing their interactions... they're a cute couple. Even though it has no basis in reality anyways._


	14. Carnival IV

_**Featured songs:**  
>"Toxic" by Britney Spears<br>__"Tainted Love" by Straight No Chaser_

* * *

><p>Emily dangles yet another set of earrings in the light of the sun. "Ai, aren't these just gorgeous?"<p>

Ellis nods absently, twisting her jade bracelet about her wrist. "Mm-hm."

"Hey, you're not listening to me, are you." It's a flat statement that Ellis doesn't both to refute, and Emily doesn't really care anyways, though she would appreciate some sort of compliment.

"Yeah, well, you're already stunning without them," Ellis says offhandedly. "You don't need to toss $20 on a set of homemade jewelry."

Emily peers at the price tag; sure enough, it is $20. "Whoa, chica. How did you see that one?"

"They're arranged according to price," Ellis points out. "$10 on that side, $25 on the other. Most probable that in between is $20."

Some sort of popular music begins to thump through the thin walls of the tented booths from a stage nearby. Ellis rolls her eyes as Emily's head snaps up, drawn to the highly synthetic music. "Com'on, we've got to check that out!" she squeals, carelessly tossing the earrings into a little pile of already examined jewelry. Ellis apologizes quickly, separating the small trinkets before racing after her roommate towards the stage.

The girls on the stage are smokin' pretty, Ellis grumps first thing. She notices the shine in Emily's eyes, knowing that the girl is probably wishing she could strut down the halls of their Catholic girls' school in the skin-revealing outfit, with the frills and the dangerously short skirts and super high stockings. It's just wishful thinking, though; all the plaid skirts at St. Mary's have to extend below the knee. If Emily ever tried stepping into the school in that attire, the nuns would beat her to death with their rosaries. The girls on the stage exhibit a lot of hip movement that barely reveal what's underneath the dress. The Latina girl up front puts a lot of personality into the first verse, indicating that this might be the only time she'll be singing.

A brunette in pigtails begins to strut up front, reaching for the mike, when another girl suddenly leaps onto the stage and steals the spotlight. She's wearing a tight white shirt and jeans; definitely not part of the show. Her bold move draws a gasp from onlookers, but her rough and raw voice quickly compensates for her abrupt arrival. Ellis notices that she's singing lyrics that don't really match with the first verse, which really throws her for a loop.

"Dios mio, that's the girl who needed a hug!" Emily squeaks.

Ellis looks at her skeptically, but Emily seems ecstatic and embarrassed at the same time. "What?"

"I saw that girl walking around with the _Breakup Look_ on her face—"

"—an expression that you are no doubt familiar with wearing—"

"So I gave her empowerment! But not this way. Unless..." Emily's eyes scan the crowd zealously, "The criminal is in this crowd right now! Ellis, help me look for the most miserable guy here!"

Ellis halfheartedly glances over the crowd. "Blaine and the wailing Warbler preps are here," she notes drily. "Getting a one-up on their competition, I suppose. How honorable."

The next song is an abrupt change: a sad song of longing, but from Wicked, so that makes it okay. Each girl steps onto the stage across from another boy, singing her stanza while the guy maybe sings harmony or doesn't sing at all, pulling out fluid dance moves instead. Emily ignores the entirety of the song, still scanning intently, but her attention is diverted for the final song, an acapella version of _Toxic_.

_Too high; can't come down.  
>Losing my head, spinning 'round and 'round.<br>Do you feel me now?_

_With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride. You're toxic; I'm slipping under._  
><em>With a taste of a poison paradise, I'm addicted to you. Don't you know that you're toxic?<em>  
><em>And I love what you do. Don't you know that you're toxic?<em>

It's easily their most rehearsed performance, with uniform black and white costumes and lots of utilization with bowler hats to cover certain parts of the constantly moving body. Damn, they have a good choreographer—possibly the blonde one up front, who also sang in the first song, because she seems the most natural and fluid. Their Latina unleashes distinctive harmonious wail during the last chorus; comically, some kid covers and uncovers a large black girl's boobs with two bowler hats while she poses and does her harmony; another Asian dancer goes wild; two girls booty pop against a guy in a wheelchair; each person showcases their own talent but it combines into a cohesive whole that sends half the park into thunderous applause when a tiny girl steps out front and belts out the final note.

Ellis glances over at the Warblers, who are looking pretty intimidated. One of them even looks depressed, holding his head sadly in his hands.

* * *

><p>Somebody settles softly next to Marissa. The person smells girly. Marissa doesn't give any encouraging signs; she just wants to be left alone so she can breathe and think, but the person speaks anyways.<p>

"I understand how you feel." _Oh, great. Rachel Berry. _"So I'm not holding it against you for crashing the first performance. It _was _completely unexpected, and your slight modifications changed the entire meaning of the song, but I think we adjusted well. Song is simply a more emotive expression of internal struggle, so to channel that feeling into spontaneous song is admirable."

A pause, one in which Marissa doesn't respond. Maybe if she doesn't move, Rachel will go away.

"I, for one, let him have a piece of my mind."

This catches Marissa's attention. She looks up at Rachel is surprise; how would she know about Cameron? How did she even find him?

Rachel smiles gracefully. "It isn't fair for him to lead you on; I fully understand that, having gone through the same heartbreak last year. Dishonesty should be outed before it buries itself even deeper, because the longer you let it sit, the more painful it is for all those involved when—"

"What are you talking about?"

"Why, Damian's unfaithfulness, of course!" Rachel exclaims. "It's the only logical explanation for your small diva moment when stealing my solo. I saw it myself; he wasn't being exactly surreptitious about it either, though he probably knew that you were otherwise occupied with Environmental club duties."

"What?"

Rachel's eyes widen. "Are you saying... that you didn't see that other brunette throwing herself all over him? Flirting shamelessly with him while he indulged her?"

Marissa stares at Rachel incredulously.

Rachel's mouth forms a perfect O, which she covers with one hand. "Oh my god. You didn't? Then... then where did that incredibly emotive performance come from? And why...?"

Marissa can't think. _Just friends. We're only friends. _But now Damian is being taken away as well. "How many people did you tell?" she asks fiercely, despair leaking into her voice.

"Well, I... I didn't tell anyone," Rachel stutters. "I just told Damian that he was being irresponsible... but it was after the _Toxic _performance... and most of the Glee club were still changing... Mercedes and Santana and Kurt..."

Marissa closes her eyes and turns her face away. "Please leave me alone," she murmurs.

"Marissa," Rachel says softly, placing a hand on Marissa's shoulder; but Marissa jerks her shoulder away, and Rachel flinches back.

"You've done enough," Marissa growls quietly. Mercedes and Kurt, the school's two biggest gossips... and Santana, the bitch who's out to get Damian anyways.

But she and Damian were never going out, right? They'd been a fake couple from the start. They had started on that common knowledge; she had agreed because she wanted to protect a friend from a miserable experience. Yet somewhere along the way, she had given a piece of herself to him. She didn't even know it, but she opened herself up and gave herself away, while he thought it was all a convincing act and held himself together.

She's having a lot of trouble holding herself together.

* * *

><p>Damian is running. After <em>Toxic<em>, Rachel had literally dragged him by his ear to a remote corner of the backstage area and proceeded to get in his face and hiss-whisper so that everybody else within a twenty foot radius could hear. She said something about "Marissa" and "unfaithfulness" and "user" before Damian twisted free of her grasp and literally ran for his life.

That Rachel, she's a scary woman.

He feels idiotic in his _Toxic _costume with a black bowler hat perched atop his head, but he doesn't dare go back to the stage for fear that Rachel is still there waiting for him. His cell phone, his clothes, his wallet... he really hopes maybe Hannah or Sunshine got a hold of them.

And Marissa. He'd promised that he'd come back for her after the performance, but the minute he'd stepped off the stage, Rachel had dragged him away. He hasn't seen Marissa since.

Footsteps sound behind him. He turns around in time to see a tall, lanky guy with large black-framed glasses jogging up behind him, a small but bulging cloth bag slung over his shoulder. "Hey, wait up," he puffs, so Damian waits. He's never seen this guy before... but is that Marissa's bag?

The guy slings the bag off his shoulder as he nears. "Hey, I saw you running for your life after the show, but you left your stuff behind." He holds out the bag, and Damian spots his rumpled jeans tangled around the bag's handles, as well as his hoodie and jacket underneath.

Damian takes the bag from the guy, but the guy doesn't let go. He looks Damian straight in the eye and says firmly, "Take care of her."

Damian looks down at Marissa's bag, then back up at the guy. When Marissa had met him behind the stage, she hadn't been carrying anything on her. Cautiously, he says, "How do you know Marissa?"

A brief flash of pain crosses the guy's face. "I'm a friend. An old friend."

Deciding that he isn't the creeper type, Damian sticks out his left hand, since his right is still holding the bag. "I'm Damian."

The guy looks at the pro-offered hand, then slowly takes it with his own. It feels strange to do a left-handed shake. "Cameron."

It comes out of Damian's mouth before he can stop it. "I don't love her."

Cameron looks at him seriously. "Then at least be there for her," he says finally. "Because she needs somebody. And she's not ready for me yet." He releases the bag's handles as he squeezes Damian's hand once; then he turns around, shoves his hands in his pockets, and walks away.

Damian stares at Cameron's back blankly as realization begins to dawn on him. "Wait," he says, and Cameron turns around. "What's your number?"

* * *

><p>"So now that you've snuck a peek at what the competition's got, you gonna up the ante anyway?"<p>

Wes freezes at the teasing, dry voice. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"Yeah, nice camouflage by the way. There's no way anybody would be able to recognize a couple Warblers wandering around without their uniforms on."

Jeff claps Wes on the back, about to tell him something when he notices the diminutive girl staring at them expectantly. "Oh god. The twerp strikes again."

"Watch it, Goldilocks," Ellis growls. "I didn't choose to be the way I am... unlike you."

Jeff flicks his head to clear his bleached bangs out of his eyes. "Whatever. You'll still be the runt of the—"

"Jeff, I swear, if you make another short joke, I will find some way to sneak powdered laxatives into Dalton's dining hall meals."

Wes looks extremely agitated, but Jeff sneers. "No way, you'll get caught."

Ellis' eyes suddenly go huge, and she looks up at them innocently through her eyelashes. She clasps both hands together childishly, and she stutters softly, "But Mrs. Stone, Jeff told me these were vitamins..."

Wes cuts in frantically, "What was your original business again?"

In a blink of an eye, Ellis has transformed from a tiny, helpless child to a dry, sophisticated young woman again. "There's no way you can say you've won fairly when you've already spied on the competition," Ellis states flatly.

"But that's not what we were doing—" Wes begins.

"—you mean that's not what you intending to do when you followed the beautiful synthetic music that you never indulge in because you're an acapella group. But you couldn't have missed the big announcement at the beginning saying _Ladies and gentlemen, the New Directions!_ And you had a chance to walk away then and maintain your perfect, honorable record of _not_ spying on the competition, but no, you stuck around. You have lost your honor," she concludes dramatically.

"Not if you don't tell anybody," Wes says slowly. "So what do you want?"

Ellis conveniently leaves out the portion where Emily, the school's loudest bigmouth, also witnessed the Warblers' presence. Besides, Emily doesn't really care about those things; she likes the juicy personal tidbits. "Impromptu show. Right now."

"Easy enough," Blaine declares, officially joining the conversation after having eavesdropped for most of it. "Just—"

"Starring me and my amazing voice. And I am _not_ singing Destiny's Child."

"Well shoot, there just went half our songs."

"Nothing written within the past decade. You know _Tainted Love_?" Ellis pulls out an mp3 player.

Blaine shakes his head slowly. "Ellis, what are we going to do with you…"

Ellis smiles innocently, which is incredibly convincing. "What would you guys do without me?"

* * *

><p><em>Sometimes I feel I've got to run away, I've got to<br>__Get away from the pain that you drive into the heart of me.  
><em>_The love we share seems to go nowhere  
><em>_And I've lost my light, for I toss and turn I can't sleep at night._

_Once I ran to you (I ran); now I'll run from you (I'll run)._  
><em>This tainted love you've given, I give you all a girl could give you.<em>  
><em>Take my tears and that's not nearly all<em>  
><em>Oh… tainted love… tainted love.<em>

Small person, big jazz sound. That's what draws people to the girl on the strutting around the grassy area close to the stage. And all the guys beatboxing around her probably helps. She looks like a girl but she acts like a woman, moving around the boys, walking fingers up their chests and pushing them around while she sings sultrily into the mike she stole off the stage.

Marissa watches the performance with slight interest. What she really needs is time; time to store thoughts of Cameron and herself and what they did and didn't do away till later when she can mull over it by herself. Because she doesn't have anybody to share it with. She's carrying a burden all by herself and she's suffocating under its weight; what she needs to do is take a step back and take it piece by piece. For now, she's going to sit on this tree stump and watch the world pass.

Somebody approaches her from the side; she looks up to see Damian in his leather jacket and loose-fitting jeans, holding a plate of fried dough. Her bag hangs from the crook of his elbow, and his costume's bowler hat pokes out the top. He stops right next to her stump, looking down at her with a gentle expression on his face. After a moment, she drops her eyes and shifts over silently; Damian scoots in next to her, offering the elephant ear. He's already torn a chunk out of it.

Marissa finds her throat so constricted that she almost can't speak. "Where… where are we now?"

Damian lightly places an arm around her shoulders. "Just friends," he says softly. "But friends are there for each other, right?"

_I love you though you hurt me so;  
>Now I'm going to pack my things and go.<em>

Marissa nods slowly, her eyes brimming with tears. When Damian keeps his arm around her, she gradually relaxes into him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. He smells warm and reassuring.

A hundred feet away, Lindsay turns around and doesn't look back.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_NO. Marissa was not supposed to go. When she won the homework assignment, I thought she was untouchable... though I suppose it all comes down to that one moment where they perform in front of Ryan Murphy, and of course Alex swept the stage with his set of pipes and Cameron's original song got to show off his potential character so much more than Marissa's rendition of "Hate on Me", which Mercedes has already killed. So bad day to land in the bottom three for Marissa. (By the way, see what she has to say about being eliminated on her blog on the Oxygen website; it makes me appreciate the decision so much more.) _

_As much as I love Cameron, I'm pretty sure the whole "he can't act" thing isn't going to fly. If he reacted so badly to one chaste kiss with Lindsay during Pairability, how is he going to deal with Sexuality next week? Though I'm glad he's paired with Hannah, cause she's one of his better friends. Lindsay and Damian, on the other hand... *fans self* Wowee. Cannot wait._

_Thus ends the Carnival arc (AKA Chapters of Pairing Misery). I've been writing obsessively over the past couple days to get these chapters out because they started as one chapter but exploded into three, but I still wanted to get them all out to you lovely people as soon as possible. _

_Well here's a bittersweet ending in honor of Marissa. And a not-so-happy ending for Lindsay. Ellis and Emily finally enter into the big picture, and Damian and Cameron meet for the first time! Now only Bryce and Alex have yet to appear... so... things are moving along slowly, and there is no way I'm going to be able to finish this story before the show ends without lopping off a couple arcs. Will you guys still be interested in the story, even when The Glee Project_ finishes?__


	15. Never Been Kissed I

In keeping with the rumor mill, by the time Monday rolls around, Marissa has officially broken up with Damian.

Hannah feels like there's an empty spot at their lunch table. The hippies still sit close to the international students, so she has a clear shot to Marissa's face as she sits with her environmentally-friendly colleagues, eating organic peanut butter on gluten-free crackers with pasture-grown chicken. And even Hannah can see the cracks in Marissa's mask. She smiles and chatters and makes sure not to drop food onto her silk scarf, but her eyes full of broken shards of pain.

Damian catches her looking. "What are you thinking?" he asks.

"What really happened?" Hannah questions in return. "She didn't really get mad that you were hanging out with… what was her name? Lindsay?"

Damian shakes his head. "I don't think so. I think she may have had a run-in with a person she had hard feelings against. Do you know a Cameron?"

Hannah tries to cover up startled guilt she knows is passing over her face. Cameron, Marissa, Damian... three weeks ago, when Cameron had dropped by to patch things up with Marissa, Hannah had been the one to push him away by lying about Damian being her boyfriend. But he came around anyways, only too late for Marissa, so she blew up on him and that resulted in Damian having to leave her as well. Now Marissa sits surrounded by people but lonelier than ever, and it's all Hannah's fault.

"What is it?" Sunshine asks anxiously. She doesn't ask _Are you okay?_ because it's probably obvious that Hannah's not alright. "What's wrong?"

Hannah feels the flush rise in her cheeks as Damian, Matheus, and Sunshine all look at her expectantly. She can't hold it in anymore; one look at Marissa's expression and Hannah blurts, "This is all my fault."

Matheus snorts. "How could any of this be your fault? It was between Marissa and her ex—"

"But me and Marissa and the ex used to be best friends," Hannah explains frantically. "So Cam trusts me. And I told him Marissa was going out with Damian."

Damian placates, "We were fake-dating."

"But Cam came to the school to talk to her! He skipped fancy pants private boarding school to talk to her, but when he heard Marissa had a boyfriend, he left all depressed and discouraged."

"When did this happen?"

"Um... five weeks ago?"

"Then it was his own fault," Matheus concludes. "Maybe what you said about Damian and Marissa wasn't completely accurate, but if Cameron really wanted to make it up to her, why would he wait five whole weeks to do it? You didn't have any part in that."

"Yes I did," Hannah disagrees, getting more agitated. "I talked to him so many times then, but we never talked about Damian or Marissa. But still, I was the one that kept her off his mind—"

"And again, if he really wanted to make it up, he would have gone anyways. That was his decision to not go right away, not yours. It's not your fault," Matheus counters.

Hannah looks slightly comforted but still upset. "But I encouraged him not to talk to her."

"Sorry, Hannah, but you've just been voted off the island for negativity points," Damian quips drily. "Seriously, when did you become such a downer?"

Sunshine hugs Hannah. "Damian's right," she breathes. "You're our happy girl. So maybe you played a part. The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

"We?"

"Yeah, we'll totally help you," Matheus agrees. "So, let's humor you and say that this is all your fault. How are you going to fix it, and how can we help?"

* * *

><p>Kurt walks down the hall, his head ducked as he tries to make it safely from the cafeteria to his classroom. It wouldn't do to get his new Marc Jacob's checkered ascot slushied on its first day of use. Though the whole point of the ascot is to show the folds of cloth around the neck, which Kurt is currently obscuring by trying to make himself as small of a target as possible. Just a couple more hundred steps and he'll be within the safety—<p>

Hands shove him roughly to the side; Kurt lands spread-eagle against some lockers, eliciting a loud metal crash. Papers cascade from his arms, hitting the floor and spreading in white sheets soon stained by red droplets as Dave Karofsky slushies Kurt straight on, coating the boy in sticky red syrup from his face to his torso.

Kurt gasps in shock. Shock at the freezing cold temperatures, shock at the sudden attack, and shock that people have the audacity to laugh and jeer at him or just ignore him. A teacher walks past hurriedly, turning a blind eye to the gruesome image of a boy smeared in sticky red.

This school sucks.

"Do you need an extra shirt?"

Kurt looks down; it's the short kid from Glee club who always hides in the upper row with Sunshine and the big redhead girl. Kurt's face twists in dry sarcasm; he tastes cold cherry on his lips. "No offense, but I hardly expect one of your shirts to fit my frame."

"No offense taken, and actually, I carry several size shirts around." The short one drops his backpack on a non-slushie-covered surface, digs around it, and pulls out a men's medium. "I don't think we've been introduced, by the way; I'm Matheus."

"Kurt. But why would you carry around so many extra shirts?" Kurt asks in confusion, shrugging off his jacket. It would have to be dry cleaned. Damn this school and its hierarchical system of dogs eating dogs.

"I'm passing on a random act of kindness," the boy grins, unfolding it and holding it up in the air. "Somebody did the same for me my first day of school."

Kurt and the boy move towards the bathroom, leaving Kurt's slushie-splattered homework behind. "Who was it?"

"Sam. Before he turned quarterback."

Kurt laughs humorlessly; now that Sam was on top of the school dating Quinn, he barely looked at the underdogs. Not that he wasn't unfriendly when interacting with them in Glee, but outside of the choir room or auditorium, they avoided eye contact. Quinn was the same way; she used to be tight with Mercedes last year when living at her house, and she, Mercedes, and Kurt had spent many long nights talking away during sleepovers. Then the baby came and went, Quinn shot back into the popular stratosphere, and now she barely smiled at Mercedes, let alone Kurt. "I know what you mean."

* * *

><p>"Wait! Marissa! Wait up!"<p>

Marissa almost ignores the familiar voice, but she stops, gritting her teeth. However, it's soon apparent that there are more people than Rachel Berry chasing to catch up with her. Marissa turns around to see a lot of girls from Glee clattering down the nearly deserted hall—Rachel, Mercedes, Tina, Sunshine, and Brittany.

Plastering on the Nice Face, Marissa questions, "What's this about?"

The girls stop around her, but Rachel acts as the spokesperson. "Listen, Marissa... you have an amazing voice perfectly suited to contemporary rhythm and blues. You've got an edge over Mercedes—" A sharp elbow jab from said girl to Rachel's side prompts the spokesperson to add hurriedly, "—and mine as well, and I would be..." Her face twists almost in pain, but then she clears it up and quickly says, "...I would be honored if, in the occasion that your strength is needed for Sectionals..." Another jab from Tina, "... or Regionals... oh fine, even Nationals, that you would fulfill that position to the best of your ability."

Marissa almost laughs at the apparently painful speech that Rachel has just given, but she keeps her face straight and apologetic. "I'm sorry," she says, "But the autumn theater production is coming up soon and the animal shelter just got ten more dogs... I've already got a lot on my hands and I don't think—"

"Please don't leave," Tina speaks up suddenly. Tina had been the quieter one of their lunch group, with bouncy Sunshine and energetic Matheus and loud Hannah and easygoing Damian and cheerful Mike whenever he was around, so to hear Tina speak is ten times more powerful than a screaming Rachel. "You didn't show up today, so we assumed you're leaving because of Damian... and I know what it's like to be disappointed, but please don't let that be the only reason why you're leaving Glee. Just try this week."

"We're doing boys versus girls mashups!" Sunshine informs excitedly. "Except the girls have to sing mashups of songs usually sung by guys, and the guys have to do mashups of songs sung by girls."

"So we're all driving to Carmel to shop for outfits and inspiration right now," Mercedes squeals. "Com'on, girl; join us! Since this is a competition, the guys and the girls are going to be separated this entire week... you won't have to see Damian's ugly mug until the actual competition when we kick their asses."

Rachel tries to communicate to Marissa with her eyes. _I'm so sorry about Damian. Can I make it up to you?_

"Com'on, Marissa. Please?" Sunshine begs. "Shopping! In Carmel! When was the last time you took a break and went shopping with a bunch of girlfriends?"

_I wouldn't even call some of them friends..._ Marissa thinks, biting her lip. But Sunshine and Tina... sure, why not?

"Who's driving?" she grins faintly. "A friend told me not to carpool with Brittany..."

* * *

><p>McKynleigh flips through her many accumulated pictures, deleting bad shots based on what she can see in the thumbnail. It's all she really has time for now, since she needs to get to practice by seven.<p>

The front screen doors slams as two familiar boys charge into the living room. Damian immediately retreats to the single-seater couch in the corner, dropping with a exhausted sigh yet still keeping a lookout for any surprise attacks. McKynleigh waves at him and he waggles his eyebrows back. "You guys are early," she drawls, looking at the clock. "Like almost an hour early. What happened?"

"Kid ran full speed into the bleachers," Damian scoffs. "Got beat up pretty bad, and he might have hurt his neck."

"It was chaos, not even Coach Tyson could handle it," Samuel says, standing in the center of the living room. "Ambulances and sirens and screaming high schoolers everywhere trying to get a peek at the action. We took off early."

"I hope the kid's okay," McKynleigh gasps.

Samuel jumps into onto the couch cushion right next to her, unexpectedly bouncing her about a centimeter into the air. She shrieks as her laptop almost falls onto the floor and barely catches it. "Watch it!" McKynleigh yells, smacking Samuel on the deltoid with the flat of her palm. "There are sensitive files on here!"

Samuel pokes his head into her lap, inspecting the hundreds of pictures on the screen. "Sensitive, eh? My my my, what do we have here, Miki? Shirtless guys? Soccer porn?"

McKynleigh flushes red—and that's remarkable, since her dark skin makes only the strongest blushes visible. She roughly shoves Samuel's head out of the way, using her feet to also shove his butt off the couch. Ungracefully, Samuel sprawls onto the floor while McKynleigh hurriedly deletes those pictures. She had taken them for a special someone, except that special someone doesn't want to see them anymore.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey Lindsay... I'm taking pictures for the yearbook for the guys' game this weekend! Do you—" Something about Lindsay's body language causes McKynleigh to cut off her own sentence. Lindsay silently drops onto the swing next to McKynleigh and hangs her head. The cheerful sounds of the carnival roaring around them seems to flow around the rainy cloud floating above Lindsay's person, her mood is so noticeable. "What's wrong?"<em>

_It's a while before Lindsay lifts her head. "He... he already has someone."_

"_What?"_

"_I saw Damian. He was cuddling with another..."_

"_Oh god. You said he had 'someone'. And you didn't specify gender. Is... is he gay?" Somehow, the picture of Damian getting personal with another guy... seems to fit the picture right, with all the zoning off he does when around other girls. Maybe if the other guy was feminine. Or maybe it was one of those bromances where both of the guys were dead sexy masculine but dead set on each other. Or maybe—_

"_No," Lindsay says sharply. "He's straight. It was another girl. A theater girl I've met a couple times. Marissa. She's gorgeous."_

"_Don't put yourself down like that, Lindsay. You are one of the most beautiful people, inside and outside, that I know—"_

"_It's okay, Miki. Thanks, but it's okay. I really wasn't that into him anyways." She laughs humorlessly, looking down at her converse sneakers. "I didn't even open that powerpoint you sent me. I just deleted it."_

"_I'm so sorry about that too. That was insensitive."_

_Lindsay shakes her head; her golden chandelier earrings sparkle in the sunlight. "No, that was just you. I understand." Her head suddenly jerks up, and McKynleigh's eyes are drawn from the earrings to Lindsay's piercing gaze. "I'm ready."_

"_Huh?"_

"_I'll do it. You told Kay cut-offs were next week. I'll do it."_

"_It's a big commitment, Lindsay. Not just something you jump into; once you're in, you'll never get out."_

"_And you said that if I get in, I'll wipe the floor clean. I trust you. Soccer is just an extracurricular activity and I don't think I can do the autumn theater production without tearing somebody's head off if Marissa shows up. I'm ready for this."_

_McKynleigh smiles. "You _are _going to shine there, girlie."_

* * *

><p>Damian looks up from his upside-down position on his personal couch. "Where's Lindsay?"<p>

I'm not quite sure," McKynleigh says. "Working at 100% effort, probably. It's how she rolls."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Guess what Lindsay's getting herself into...?_

_When I say that all of you readers are epically awesome, I mean it; YOU GUYS ARE EPICALLY AWESOME. 40 reviews for "Carnival IV" alone?~! How is that even possible? I am shocked speechless... and there really isn't a way I can acknowledge all of you, but know that I read and appreciate every single one! And if you have an account I try and PM you as well. Some general answers: thank you for your overwhelming positive feedback - I'm going to keep writing, even when TGP ends. I haven't quite figured out where Damian and Lindsay are headed, but thanks for the awesome ideas, **iheartux3**. _

_Oo! A super special shout-out to **OBSESSED DDD**, who went through all 300 reviews to tally up EVERYBODY'S opinion on pairings (72 for Damsay, 40 for Camrissa). And another serial reviewer, **BrittanaLove**, makes an appearance!_

_And so here is your double-post reward for reaching 200 reviews! ...That was a while back. This double-post is long overdue =.= I'm sorry! But the Chapters of Pairing Misery had to be stand-alones. _


	16. Never Been Kissed II

_A/N: This is the second chapter of the double-post reward for reaching 200 reviews! (But inkbender, this story has 350 reviews) YES I KNOW I am working on the 300-reviews-double-post-reward now. Two double-posts in a row, how awesome is that? Anyways, this chapter probably won't make a lot of sense if you don't read the previous one, so go back and read it. AND REVIEW IT. And then come back here._

* * *

><p>By the time Hannah has finished running her grape-slushied clothes through the small washer and dryer system in the janitor's closet (installed for slushie purposes), the Glee girls have already left to do their costume inspiration shopping. She briefly considers chasing them down to Carmel in her car—that's probably what the girls assumed she would do, anyways—but Hannah got her fourth speeding ticket last weekend driving back home after the carnival and her parents are pretty pissed. Besides, she doesn't really care what she wears or sings; as long as Mercedes gets an outfit in Hannah's size, Hannah's good with whatever mash up they decide to do.<p>

She folds the other clothes she found in the dryer neatly; they're crazy fashionable, but red stains still stand out in the skinny jeans. Seeing a sponge nearby, Hannah lathers up some detergent and begins to spot-scrub the denim.

Five minutes later, the janitor's closet opens suddenly. Hannah almost drops her sponge although she has nothing to be guilty for.

Oh, it's Kurt—but he's dressed in a very, very plain white shirt and sweats, and Hannah barely recognizes him. She makes the connection from his strange outfit to the articles of clothing she's holding in her hands. "I'm sorry, am I cleaning your clothes wrong?" she exclaims. "Oh god, does this have to be dry cleaned?" Frantically, she double checks the cleaner she's using. "Thank goodness, I'm not using bleach..."

"Why are you cleaning my clothes?" Kurt asks in faint surprise.

"Uh... I felt like it? I have nothing better to do?" No, that's not right. She has to implement Phase 1 of her awesome Project-Get-Cameron-and-Marissa-Back-Together! And what a better time than now, since her plans for today left half an hour ago for Carmel without her; she doesn't have to wait till Friday. "So what are you doing? Aren't you Glee guys having your special top-secret meeting?" she changes the subject while drying Kurt's jeans.

Kurt's expression is indignant yet sad. "The guys don't value my input. They shot down all my ideas without listening to them and told me that I'd be better off spying on our competition."

Hannah gets an idea. "Hey, Kurt... actually, I'm running an errand in Westerville," she grins. "One of the teams we're going up against in Sectionals is the Dalton Academy Warblers; I could drop you off at the school today."

Kurt looks skeptical. "You're serious? About spying?"

"Why not? They were spying on us during the carnival."

Kurt purses his lips. "You'd do that for me? Why?"

"Cause we're friends. Com'on, let's go to your house first. Everybody there wears a uniform, so if you get it right, you'll blend in perfectly." Hannah searches her mind for what Cameron wore five weeks ago, that night when he dropped Sunshine off. "Uh... I can't remember if it was a blue or a black blazer..."

* * *

><p>"Oh my god, look at this jacket!" Mercedes exclaims, bringing a rush of girls to mob the window. "Maybe we could do some sort of wilderness exploration theme..."<p>

Rachel scoffs. "What sort of songs could we sing to go with wilderness exploration?"

Sunshine contradicts: "Oh, I'm sure there are plenty."

"_Gimme More_ by Britney," Brittany adds.

Tina taps Brittany on the shoulder softly. "That's a girls' song. Sung by a girl."

Brittany shrugs. "If Britney wanted to be a man, she could do it."

"Check out the price tag," Sunshine says in awe. "$200? There's no way we could get one for all of us."

Rachel and Mercedes share a look. "You'd be surprised about the ways we've stretched our budget before," Rachel quips, and leaves it at that. The girls shuffle away from the store window.

Marissa trails behind all of them. Her heart's not caught up in the rush, and she doesn't really feel like spending money, even if it's out of the Glee club budget. Surprisingly, for a show choir that didn't even place at Regionals last year, the New Directions has a gigantic budget that allows the girls to even consider buying brand-new props for simple week-to-week assignments—props they use once and then shove in the gigantic school closets to never use again and for other clubs to leech off. Marissa has had her share of sneaking into the Glee club closet and "borrowing" their six-foot diameter silent fans for theater productions.

Come to think of it, she hasn't returned the fan yet. And the club hasn't noticed that it's been missing for five months...

Before she knows it, Marissa's wandering aimlessly, a couple hundred feet behind the girls. Sunshine and Tina haven't noticed; but then again, Sunshine isn't the most observant person. Still, Marissa feels slightly miffed that nobody has noticed her absence, but she decides to give them an excuse and ducks into a nearby store.

Gap Kids. Haha. Some of these clothes might fit Matheus. She bites her lip as she peruses the bright clothes. None of them particularly make a bold statement, though they would blend with other clothes.

Somebody taps her on her shoulder while she's refolding the articles of clothing she recently inspected. "Hey, I'm gonna borrow you for 30 seconds."

Marissa turns around to face the speaker. He's tall, dark, and attractive with great posture, and he exudes a confidence that fills the entire store. He offers his hand gamely, continuing, "I saw you through the front window and wanted to come say hi, I thought you were cute."

Marissa blushes. "Oh, I don't work here..."

"Doesn't change the fact," he grins, still holding out his hand. "I'm Bryce."

Marissa automatically places her hand in his; it's warm and calloused and large enough to completely engulf hers, but he handles it gently. "Marissa."

He doesn't drop her hand, but continues to hold onto it. "Hey, I just rediscovered this and thought it would be appropriate, since we're in a little kids' store. Some little kid came up to me and was like, 'Hey, you gotta try this with me!'" He repositions their hands into a thumb-war position, and Marissa laughs. "You remember this?" Bryce laughs back. His tone is strong and he enunciates clearly. Unlike Cameron, who adopted a pleasant drawl when speaking that slurred words together when he was tired or excited.

Bryce's hand is almost twice as big as hers, and she has no way of winning; she never won against Hannah, anyways. But she doesn't pull her fingers free of Bryce's; they're long, like a piano player's. "What are we doing?"

"You've never done this before? One, two, three—"

Marissa joins in. "—Four, I declare..."

"There we go, you know the song!" Bryce exclaims enthusiastically. "Alright, you got this?"

Marissa nods, and they begin. "One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb-war!"

Before she can even try to move, though, Bryce brings his other palm and presses it against hers, caging her small hand between his two large ones. "One two three four, I win!"

Marissa laughs indignantly. "You cheated!"

"Eh, I twisted the odds. I'm a winner, it's what I do," Bryce swags, releasing her hand finally. It feels colder without his fingers wrapped around hers. "So where are you from? I haven't seen you around before."

"Carmel's a big city," Marissa counters.

"I've been in every corner of this town and you're not from around. Lima or Westerville?"

Marissa pauses, startled. "Lima."

"Escaping from the tiny town to the big city, are we? I totally know how you feel. I actually moved from Westerville three years ago."

"You said you've been in and around Carmel for a while," Marissa responds in humor.

"I didn't say that I've been here a while," Bryce laughs. "There's a lot you can do in three years. It's been quite the ride. There's a lot Carmel has to offer; you just have to go looking for it." That confident swagger is back in full force. "So now that you're here, what have you been doing?"

Marissa glances outside of the store; no friends are looking for her. "Um..."

"You look bored as shit," Bryce teases. "What, a bunch of your friends are squabbling over clothes you don't really care about?"

"Yeah, more or less," Marissa sighs. This mall doesn't really have an ethnic store, or at least the style of clothing she likes to put together.

Bryce eyes her current outfit: bangles on her wrists, plated necklace, tight black shirt and flowy skirt. "I figure you get your outfits from Columbus, right? Definitely none of your stuff around here." Bryce puts his hand under his chin in a thoughtful pose. "Though actually, a friend of mine started going to this store downtown called Anatasia's. Maybe you'd want to check it out sometime; let me get you the address." He pulls a pen out of his pocket, then searches his body. "Ugh, do you have a piece of paper...?"

Marissa begins to dig through her purse, but a girl's shout draws both their attentions. "Marissa!"

Sunshine waves from just outside the store. Bryce looks at Sunshine, then back at Marissa. "Well, looks like your friends have caught up with you," he says lightly as he pulls out his phone. "Marissa, right? Here, put in your number. We can catch up later."

Marissa hesitates. What just happened? But then he gives her a winning smile and she punches her number into his phone and hands it back. He salutes her, winks, and runs out of the store. Sunshine stares at him with wide eyes as he passes, then back as Marissa as she calmly walks out of the store.

"Who was he?" Sunshine asks.

Marissa stares after Bryce. "I'm not sure... yet."

* * *

><p>Samuel glances at the clock. He doesn't know Lindsay's schedule too well, but he's always thought that Lindsay came home directly after junior varsity soccer practice and took a shower. Yet McKynleigh had answered vaguely that Lindsay wasn't at home, and that she was giving something 100%. Whatever that means.<p>

Anyways, it's almost six and Lindsay has yet to be seen. McKynleigh's still going through the months of photos, Damian's taking a small nap, some nerds are still playing the never-ending Halo game in front of the wide screen TV, and Samuel's at a loss for what to do. He's still sprawled out on the floor in the position that he fell after McKynleigh shoved him off the couch.

Rolling over slightly, he spots one of Lindsay's best friends, Kay, drawing. She has white ear buds plugged deep in her ears. "Hey," he whispers hoarsely, but she just continues bobbing her head along to the music, so he pokes her in the side.

Kay lets out a supersonic squeak and rolls away. "Sam!" she hisses, pulling an ear bud out of her ear. "I'm extremely ticklish."

"I know, and I was trying to get your attention."

"Attention diverted," Kay grins sheepishly, pulling the other ear bud out. "What did you want?"

"Where's Lindsay?"

Kay's expression droops. "Now that, I'm not sure," she says softly. "I haven't talked to her since last week." Her face brightens. "How did the carnival go? Did she get with hmmm-mmm?" She blanks out the last word while jerking her head over in sleeping Damian's direction.

Samuel shakes his head, causing some dreads to toss around. "She went in as happy as a baby puppy and came out like a dead dog."

Kay grabs the nearest object, her pencil bag, and smacks him over the head with it. "That's terrible imagery!" When McKynleigh looks over in interest, Kay lowers her voice. "What do you mean by _dead dog_?"

"Like, staring blankly into space, sighing a lot. I don't think things went over too well with hmm-mm, but hmm-mm hasn't said anything about it." Samuel shakes his head again. "That doesn't say where Lindsay is right now."

"Well speak of the devil!" Kay shouts as Lindsay enters the living room slowly. Her usual bright energy is lacking, and she slouches over to McKynleigh's couch and curls up next to McKynleigh. Damian jerks awake and smiles at her and she smiles faintly back, then leans her head against McKynleigh's shoulder and closes her eyes.

"That's it?" Samuel smirks. "No _I'm hoooome_ solo? No dramatic jazz-hands entrance? No special bear hug for Damian?"

"Please no, thank you very much," calls said potential victim hiding in the corner.

"Oh, you're asking for it," Samuel simpers, diving for Damian. Damian yelps and scrambles to slip out of his seat, but, having just woken up from a nap, his movements are too slow for Samuel's striker reflexes. Instantly, Samuel has his arms around Damian's head. Damian drops to the ground and half-flips Samuel onto his back, wriggling his head out of Samuel's head lock. Samuel grins wildly before diving for Damian again; his dreadlocks fly in every direction, giving rise to the appearance of a whirling blur of action.

Kay leaps up onto the couch where Lindsay and McKynleigh already are, whooping in excitement. Lindsay briefly observes the wrestling match before closing her eyes and burying her head into McKynleigh's shoulder. "I can't do this," she mumbles.

Alarmed, McKynleigh leans closer to Lindsay's ear. "What are you saying, girl? You just told me last—"

"Not that. This," she murmurs, indicating the tumble of bodies on the floor. Samuel has now got Damian on his back, furiously pushing Samuel's arms aside while he tries to right himself.

"Hey!" Samuel yelps as Damian, struck by inspiration, yanks on a handful of hair. "Yeouch! Not fair! Bloody cheater!"

"Oh, you just cussed in Irish!" Kay jeers from the sidelines. "Kick his arse, Damian!"

"I can't... he's sitting on my legs," Damian gasps back, but he finally subdues Samuel by pulling him off to the side.

"Him?" McKynleigh whispers to Lindsay.

"I lied to you last week... and I lied to myself. About... him. And now I've gotten myself into this."

McKynleigh shakes her head. "Decide now, Lindsay. It's still early, but you only have one choice."

"I'm in too deep, Miki," Lindsay whispers sadly. "The decision's already been made for me."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Yes! Bryce makes his significant entrance; he'll be sticking around for a while. And Lindsay's heading off in a different direction... again, somebody give me a YEAH! for confused love polygons!_

_Just a reminder: the title doesn't necessarily relate to the story; it's more to provide the setting. Plus I'm not creative enough to come up with my own unique titles for every. single. chapter. I just throw these chapters up, scrawl out a quick Author's Rant, and post it ASAP. So the chapters entitled "Audition" and "Duets" did include auditions and duets, but mostly it gave the time frame of occurrence. Same thing with "Never Been Kissed"; expect what happened in the Glee episode to go down (Kurt's first kiss that mattered), but don't expect first kisses to be applied to TGP members. It miiiight happen... but it might not._

_Again, thank you guys so much for the incredible amount of reviews over the past couple days... so here's your 200-review double-post reward, and I will get onto the 300-review double-post reward! _


	17. Never Been Kissed III

Hannah props her knee against the steering wheel, pulls out her phone, and begins texting Cameron. While speeding down the highway between Westerville and Lima at 10mph over the speed limit.

Kurt looks at Hannah in agitation. "Excuse me, why don't I hold the wheel..."

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Hannah says confidently. "I've had plenty of experience. Give me a second, I'm almost done with this..." The car hits the rumble strip, causing Kurt to jump visibly, but Hannah calmly eases the car back to the middle track. Her eyes flicker downwards for the briefest instants to check that she's typing correctly. "Oh, haha, like at what T9 came up for me! I was trying to say _How are you beating the heat? _but it came up with _How are you beating the meat_... whatever that's supposed to mean."

Kurt blushes furiously and looks out the window to hide his face, but this brings to his attention that at this rate, Hannah will drive off the road in five seconds. However, just then, Hannah finishes off her text and sticks her phone underneath her leg, causing Kurt to audibly sigh in relief. The moment of peace is short-lived, though, because the next minute Hannah slams the brakes and slows down to the speed limit when a police car passes by.

When Hannah finally pulls to a stop in front of Dalton Academy, Kurt shakily pulls himself out of Hannah's car. "Thanks for the ride," he stammers.

"Yeah, no problem," she grins. "I'll come pick you up in an hour or so?"

Kurt nods and waves; Hannah waves back and drives away, leaving Kurt in front of the big wooden doors clad in a black blazer and plain red tie. The uniform feels stiff and uncomfortable, and the minute Kurt enters the doors, he curses Hannah's faulty memory: everybody's wearing blue blazers and red-and-blue striped ties, and he sticks out like a sore thumb.

But... there are guys everywhere. Kurt tries not to be too obvious, but he can't help but check out a couple passing students with messenger bags slung over their shoulders. The uniforms certainly don't help with outlining body characteristics, but even he can see the tightness in the back that indicates muscular shoulders, or the veins popping in the arms of guys with their sleeves rolled up. Two guys pass by; one has long, bleached blonde bangs that he clears from his eyes by tossing his head. It's such a feminine gesture and Kurt knows that every bully within a ten mile radius would instantly zero in on this kid and toss him in the nearest dumpster... but nothing happens. Bleached Bangs continues talking to his buddy, even placing an hand on his friend's shoulder and leaning in closer when he gets excited about something. The other guy doesn't flinch at all at the close contact, and the two turn a corner.

Kurt finds himself staring after the two in wonder. Never could he ever act like that in the halls of McKinley. He'd have a slushie shoved up his nose and find himself locked in a flipped Porta-Potty and tossed in a dumpster, all at once, within five seconds flat. Already he finds himself longing...

People are moving in one direction, and he finds himself swept along with the current down some spiral stairs around the center of a vertical atrium that goes up three stories. Why would a school need so many levels? One guy is fighting his way up the stairs, and Kurt stops to address him. "Um, excuse me?" He asks the guy—tall, skinny, with a head of bushy sandy hair barely combed over and thick black glasses. "Where's everybody going?"

"The study commons," the guy replies. "The Warblers are putting on another show—it's a pretty big thing here. I've got to go meet a friend, though." His face twists sadly. "I'm actually a part of the show, but my friend says it's an emergency." The guy points over the railing at another dark-haired boy standing in the middle of the atrium, waiting for someone. "Hey, could you do a favor for me? That guy there is my roommate. He's waiting for me, but I've got to meet my friend. Could you tell him I won't be able to make it? Alex can cover my part, he's the understudy."

Kurt nods quickly. "Thanks. What was your name?"

The guy grins. "Oh yeah. Tell him that the message is from Cameron."

"Thanks Cameron," Kurt says. "I'm Kurt."

"Alright, see you around, Kurt," Cameron grins and continues to fight his way up the stairs.

Kurt jogs down the rest of the stairs with relative ease, reaching the small clearing in the middle of the atrium. Light from the skylight overhead illuminates the little spot they're standing in. "Um, I'm new here," Kurt stutters, tapping the dark-haired guy on the shoulder. His hair is gelled and combed over to the side, giving him a very clean-cut look. "Your roommate Cameron sent a message through me, saying he had to go meet a friend in an emergency, and to give his part to Alex the understudy."

The guy looks thoughtful. "I think that could work... Hey, I'm Blaine, by the way."

Kurt takes his offered hand gingerly. "Kurt. So where is everybody going?"

Blaine doesn't release Kurt's hand. "Here, let me take you there. Dalton's pretty easy to get lost in, but we'll go through a shortcut."

Blaine tugs at Kurt's hand insistently, and Kurt has no choice but to follow. Not that he minds; actually, he's pretty starstruck by the fact that another guy is holding his hand. _Holding_ his hand. Another warm, calloused hand is clenched around his own]. It's exhilarating, it's freeing; Kurt feels like he wants to fly and his heart beats like crazy as he follow Blaine to places unknown.

* * *

><p>Cameron steps out of the school through the back door; it's not like he's doing anything against the rules, but the school administration tends to frown upon guys who participate in outside activities frequently. Dalton has many of its own sports teams, after all, and the two dining halls serve delicious, if not expensive, food. Cameron usually leaves school for other reasons, though, and the teachers are beginning to catch on.<p>

Hannah's car waits in mostly deserted parking lot outside. Cameron slips into her car and shuts the door. He's not exactly sure why Hannah would call him outside, but he figures it's a pretty good reason. "What's up?" he says casually.

"I heard about what happened last weekend, at the fair."

Cameron remains silent. If he thinks about the experience hard enough, he can almost feel the sting of Marissa's hand across his face.

"I'm sorry," Hannah says, and, from her expression, it sounds like there's more behind it than she's willing to let on. But he doesn't push her and she doesn't say why. "Why Marissa acted that way, I don't know, but I say you guys have to stop running in circles around each other. Give her a couple days to think about it and then communicate exactly what you want to say to her."

"And how am I going to do that? What if she doesn't even want to see me?"

"We've got people on this, Cam," Hannah winks. "You won't be on your own."

Cameron's eyebrows rise as he looks over at her. "You... and your friends... are trying to set us up together?"

"Hey, my friends offered to help," Hannah says defensively. "Don't look into it too deeply. Seriously, do you want to communicate with Marissa for once? Or are you going to keep slouching around on the sidelines waiting for the opportunity to fall into your lap?"

Cameron realizes that's exactly what he's been doing. Seventeen months ago, he left and didn't even remember to tie things up until he saw her again five weeks ago. Then, after that, he hadn't pushed ahead and tried to communicate with her until last weekend, when he saw her cornered in the elephant ear booth. He's been reactive instead of proactive, waiting an opportunity to present itself instead of making an opportunity. And now, here's Hannah, offering him backup in the form or her and her friends. "I'm so blessed to have you as a friend," he confesses honestly.

Hannah blushes deep red; again, Cameron's aware that there's more underneath her expression than modesty or gratitude, but he can put a finger on it. "Anything for my bestie ex-neighbor," Hannah laughs after a moment. "Anything."

* * *

><p>Damian can't figure Lindsay out. She had been so affectionate at last week's fair—leaning softly against him with her arm hooked into his as they strolled through the carnival booths and laughed at the outrageous rigging going on behind the scenes to pull money out of unsuspecting peoples. And then they proceeded to blow money on some of the mini-games anyways, eventually paying twenty bucks between the two of them plus five dollars from McKynleigh, all to win a tiny beanie baby cow. Even though Damian had been the one to win it, he gave it to Lindsay.<p>

Now, though, as he sits in the hammock with Samuel and Kay eating hot dogs, Damian has no idea why Lindsay won't even look at him.

Why does he care whether or not Lindsay looks at him? Why does he feel the need to reassure himself that everything's alright between them? That they're still friends? After all, she has become one of his better friends; her family feeds him dinner, and that gives him the opportunity to hang out with friends from Carmel High while avoiding interactions with his mother or her boyfriend. Plus Lindsay splits the task of driving him back to Lima every day after dinner with Samuel. Lindsay and Samuel, two friends that keep him rooted in America even as he longs for Ireland. Damian doesn't want to lose Lindsay as a friend. He values her passion for life, her desire to throw her all into everything she does, her infectious laugh and her intense eyes, even her loud opinion and her need to express said opinion on everything, talking so much that sometimes she drowns other people out. That's Lindsay.

He's in the process of trying to catch her eye when Samuel nudges him. "Here," he grins, offering up his own hot dog.

Damian stares at the un-chewed end of Samuel's hot dog. "What?"

"Eat it," Samuel commands.

Shrugging, Damian leans over and takes a chunk out of the hot dog. Right when his mouth closes over the food item, though, Samuel moves in and takes a bite off his end. Their noses are practically touching, and Samuel's eyebrows waggle suggestively. Damian gags and jerks away, the chunk of bread and hot dog almost falling out of his mouth. Kay bursts into laughter and McKynleigh smiles, but Lindsay... she suddenly looks upset. Without a word, she picks up her paper plate and her barely-touched hot dog and walks into the house. Damian watches her go, his mouth still full.

"What was that for?" he asks a bit too fiercely, whirling on Samuel. The hot dog blunts his words a little, so Damian chews quickly.

Samuel laughs him off. "Just recalling a memory."

Damian swallows and glances at McKynleigh, who had been sitting next to Lindsay. She's staring daggers at Samuel. What sort of memory involves sharing hot dogs with other people?

Making a split decision, Damian hops out of the hammock, causing it to careen wildly as the balance is upset. Samuel almost drops his ketchup-laden hot dog on his hot pink shirt. "Hey!" he yells, but Damian ignores him as he leaps onto the back porch and enters the house.

Shannon's voice echoes from the kitchen. "Damo, hon, she's gone into her room. I don't think it's a very good idea to—"

Damian ignores her, heading down the hallway to the door with Lindsay's name on it, surrounded by stenciled flowers and sequins. He's only been in her room once, when he followed Samuel in ambushing her. Damian had been extremely hesitant about barging into a girl's room unannounced, but Samuel had jumped into the room anyways; thank god she'd been on her computer printing out homework, instead of sleeping. Or dressing.

Her door is closed now. Damian knocks on it lightly. "Lindsay?" he calls.

There's a moment of silence. A very long moment. Then Lindsay clears her throat and says brightly, "Sorry, Damian. I'm a little busy."

Damian almost slinks back in shame for making a big deal out of nothing, but he decides to make sure. "Um, sorry... but I just wanted to check up. Uh, are we... okay?"

Another pause. "Yeah, we're good. I'm not mad at you, Damian."

Damian puts his hand on the doorknob. It's weird talking to a door, and her voice doesn't sound too genuine. He just wants to see her face, to see if she's really alright. "Is it alright if I come in?"

The answer is immediate and forceful this time. "NO."

Damian's hand flies off the doorknob, as if it's burned him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... I'll just—"

"No, I'm... I'm changing." But Lindsay's voice is obviously shaking, and she takes a moment to pull herself together. When she speaks again, her voice is steady and strong. "I'll come out in a couple moments. Thanks for checking up on me."

But as Damian walks away, he can't help but feel that she's pulling away from him. And he doesn't want to lose her.

* * *

><p>Maybe it's all a self-contrived fantasy, but Kurt swears that Blaine was gazing at him the entire time he was singing <em>Teenage Dream<em>. How silly is that assumption, that this guy he just met happens to be the lead singer of their competition, and, while singing a song obviously written with heterosexual intent, said lead singer would be looking at him out of everybody in the entire room?

But Kurt can't shake the feeling that Blaine was indeed looking at him with those sparkling eyes the entire time. And he can't shake the feeling that he feels towards Blaine right now, even though he fights it. He already has a terrible streak of crushing on unattainable straight guys: first Finn, then Sam, then Damian a couple weeks ago, when rumors that lasted only a day went around that the Irish transfer student was gay. Just within twelve hours of hearing the rumor, Kurt had already fallen hard—seriously, another openly gay guy in this close-minded town? It's like they were meant for each other... only the next day, Damian was all over his new girlfriend, and Kurt didn't dare invoke the wrath of another woman by flirting with Damian. Kurt's competition with Rachel had already been fierce enough, and neither of them had possessed Finn at the time.

After the performance, Blaine brings Kurt to what appears to be a dining hall and orders a coffee. He and Blaine sit at a small table, almost as if they were on a mini-date. Butterflies flutter in Kurt's stomach, but then two other guys sit on either side of Blaine.

"You're not really a student here, are you?" the black guy begins.

Kurt flushes red. "Um, no. I'm not. Uhhh... it's nice for you guys to invite me out for coffee before beating me up for spying."

"We are not going to beat you up," the Asian guy says sharply. "Dalton Academy has a zero-tolerance harassment policy."

"It's why I came here," Blaine states openly. "Everybody here gets treated the same, not matter what they are. It's pretty simple."

Kurt takes a blind stab in the dark. "Are you guys all gay?"

Blaine laughs and shakes his head. "No, Wes and David," he says, jerking to the Asian guy and the black guy respectively, "are straight. David's actually got a girlfriend at our sister school, St. Mary's."

"A Catholic girls' school," Wes elaborates when Kurt is silent, misinterpreting his lack of reply.

However, Blaine sees deeper. He glances at David and Wes. "Could you guys give us a moment?"

The two excuse themselves, taking their coffees with them. After they've gone, Blaine says, "I take it you're having trouble at school."

It's a statement. A knowing statement. Kurt opens up. "I'm the only person out of the closet at my school. And I try to stay strong about it, but there's this..." Karofsky shoving him against lockers, jeering at him, throwing slushies in his face, harassing him to no end, "...this Neanderthal who just wants to make my life a living hell." Matheus giving him a shirt, Hannah giving him a ride here... but then there are dozens of more faces that walk around the slushie splatter radius, blind eyes not making eye contact with him as artificially flavored corn syrup drips down his brow. "And nobody seems to notice."

Blaine shifts in his chair. "I know how you feel," he says. "I used to get taunted at my old school, and it really pissed me off. I even complained about it to the faculty... and they were sympathetic, but you could just see in their eyes that they really didn't care. Maybe they couldn't do anything about it, but they were like, 'Hey, if you're gay, people everywhere are going to be like this, and we can't change that. Just face it.' ...So I came here." Blaine looks around at the spacious mahogany walls of the little dining hall.

Kurt looks down at his lap. Mercedes, Finn, Mr. Schuester, all lending their support... but it's never enough, because somebody will always be somewhere hating Kurt for who he is.

Blaine continues. "So you have two options. I would love to tell you to come and roll here, but Dalton's tuition is pretty steep, and I know that's not an option for everybody. Or, you can refuse to be the victim. Prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt, and you have a chance right now to teach them."

Kurt latches on Blaine's words. "How?"

"Confront them. Call them out." Blaine leans forward, suddenly eager to pass the message to Kurt. "I ran, Kurt. I didn't stand up. I let bullies chase me away, and that is something that I really, truly regret. Now you have the opportunity to take that initiative. Courage, Kurt, and you can change the world, a person at a time."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE SPOILERS IN REVIEWS. In earlier _Author's Rants_ I've mentioned that I don't have cable and I can't watch the episodes until Monday or Tuesday. So I was extremely disappointed to stumble upon this week's elimination. What can I say, I love you guys and your reviews :) When I see new reviews, I gobble them up and then go back to writing—you guys inspire me! But please don't spoil the results for me. It makes me sad. _

_Once again, DON'T CLICK THAT NEXT BUTTON! Double-posts are hard cuz I have to write twice the amount of events in the same amount of time... so I fully expect reviews for both chapters. ^_^ And you guys have done awesomely so far in reviewing both, but it doesn't hurt to remind you guys again! _


	18. Project GCAMBT I

_A/N: This is the second chapter of the double-post reward for reaching 300 reviews! Read the bold text in the Author's Rant to find out what the reward for 400 reviews is... and for 450 reviews! (Because writing double-posts is stressful, to say the least...) Two double-posts in a row, how awesome is that? Anyways, this chapter probably won't make a lot of sense if you don't read the previous one, so go back and read it. AND REVIEW IT. And then come back here._

__**Featured songs:**  
><em>_"There's a Light" from Rocky Horror Picture Show__

* * *

><p>Cameron walks through the dark halls of Dalton. He's been out past curfew again, but he has a hall pass from the matron at St. Mary's pardoning his lateness; tutoring with David's girlfriend Emily had gone overtime again, with all the time she spent chattering about other boys. (<em>"Not you, Cam-Cam," she chided sweetly. "You're sweet and all, but you're just not my type. Anthony, though<em>...")

It's only 10:30, but when Cameron gets to his room, there is no light showing through the small crack at the bottom of the door. That's unusual, because Blaine never goes to bed before midnight. Also, somebody's tie is also slung over the doorknob for some reason. He doesn't think too much about it, since he's been doing a lot of thinking all night (for both himself and Emily, because sometimes he swears there's only air in her head.) Cameron inserts his key in the door, unlocks it, slips inside, and turns on the light.

"Shit!" Blaine yells, slamming his arms onto his blanket. He's still wearing his dress shirt, though it's been unbuttoned all the way. He's lying on his back in his bed, the lower half of his body covered by a light blanket. There also appears to be another large lump under the blanket... "This isn't what it—" Blaine begins, but Cameron cuts him off.

"Man, I'm really tired," Cameron yawns loudly. "All that tutoring... and thinking... and keeping Emily on track... it's tiring." He strides over to his side of the room, rummaging for sleeping clothes and his towel. "I'm gonna take a really, really, _really_ long, relaxing shower. Talk to you later." And with that, he shuts himself in the bathroom, turns on the fan, and runs the water.

Standing under the hot water for an extended period of time is really relaxing. Cameron usually steps in for five minutes and steps right out, but just letting his body soak in the steam and letting his mind wander is pretty awesome as well.

First off, Cameron doesn't really care what Blaine does. Blaine's one of the best roommates Cameron could wish for: understanding and action-oriented, knowing what to do and doing it straight away. So whatever he decides to do with his personal life, Cameron doesn't care; after all, Blaine has certainly helped Cameron with his own personal life.

Marissa. She'd slapped him and walked away, yet here he is again, preparing to jump into that vulnerable position again. This time, though, he'll have friends with him; he won't be going it alone. He's so grateful for Hannah pushing him towards this decision; but now that he's made the decision to act, he's not quite sure what to do. If Marissa won't listen to words, what should he do?

Cameron sighs as suds run down his face from his hair. He really needs people. He'd thought he didn't need anyone and that he was completely independent, and through that he'd pushed Marissa off the edge into a self-destructive spiral that she's still recovering from now. Now, he probably wouldn't have considered taking such drastic measures without prompting from Blaine and Hannah.

Cameron doesn't know how much time has passed when he finishes washing all body parts (twice), so he stands under the pound of water for another ten minutes or so before getting out. All the while, all he can think about is how he's going to express genuinely to Marissa what he's feeling. But even after he's toweled himself off and tossed on a pair of shorts and a gray tank top, Cameron's still not too sure how to approach her.

He opens the bathroom door hesitantly. The light is on—that's a good sign—and Blaine is sitting on his bed, fully dressed. Cameron smirks as he saunters out and tosses himself onto his own bed.

"Sorry about that," Blaine begins, but Cameron cuts him off.

"Man, it's cool," he assures. "I don't care what you do with your life. Sorry for not realizing what the tie on the door meant."

Blaine smiles faintly. "Thanks."

"So..." Cameron asks after a small silence. "Can I ask you something personal?" Seeing Blaine's sudden look of panic, Cameron elaborates, "About myself."

Blaine scoots to the end of his bed, swinging his feet onto the floor and leaning his elbows on his knees in a classical listening position.

"Marissa. I can't think about how I'm going to communicate myself to her. Not when it went so badly last time. I... I said some pretty hard things. Sure, she said them first, but I should have reigned myself in. So now I'm at this dilemma where I want to tell her clearly that I'm sorry and I want to make it up to her, but I don't know how to tell her."

Blaine thinks for a bit. "Sing it."

"Huh?"

"Song. It's the epitome of emotional expression: you've got your meaning put to music, which in itself sets the sentiment. Tell her through a simple song or two."

A grin slowly spreads across Cameron's face. "Blaine, you're a genius."

* * *

><p>"Mr. Schue?" Rachel raises her hand. "Aren't you worried that some of the adult themes of the Rocky Horror Picture Show might be a point of controversy for a high school production?"<p>

"I foresaw that, so I cut and edited a bit of the more risque scenes," their glee teacher replies, handing out rough scripts. "I fully support this endeavor because I know all of you are extremely talented actors who can handle the weight of this classic Halloween-season musical." It seems like he's trying to convince himself as well.

Mike stares hard at his role. "So let me get this straight," he murmurs first. "As Eddie... I pop out of the deep freezer, then get chased back in and am hacked to pieces. ...Do I even get to say anything?"

"You can scream," Tina answers helpfully.

"Rocky Horror?" Sam gulps nervously. "Does this mean I'm the main character?"

Rachel answers, "Of course not... the protagonists of the story would be me, Janet..." She hooks her arm through Finn's excitedly, "Finn, you're going to make the perfect Brad."

"I'll bet the only reason why Damian is the Narrator is because of his awesome accent," Hannah whispers to Sunshine.

Sunshine doesn't hear her, though; she's staring sadly at her role of _background dancer. _"I can't even dance," she mutters to Matheus, who nods along with her at his similar role.

"We have awesome voices," Matheus comforts. "We're just too nice to push for solos."

Sunshine glares at Rachel, who's already pulled Finn out of his chair to practice blocking for their first number.

Kurt speaks up before the chatter can rise beyond control. "Mr. Schue?" he says crossly, laying the script across his lap. "There is no way I'm dressing up as a transvestite in heels."

Mr. Schue looks slightly taken aback at the denial of the obvious character. "Why...?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I've got standards. I'm not dressing up in tight black leather and fishnets, period. Sorry, Mr. Schuester."

"No, I'm sorry, Kurt. I shouldn't have assumed," Mr. Schuester recovers gracefully. "Maybe..." He consults the cast list, looking for substitutions.

"I'll do it," Mike pipes in. Everybody glances at him, and he speaks again, louder. "I'll be Dr. Frank N. Furter."

Mr. Schue looks slightly skeptical. "Are you sure, Mike? It's a very... forward role."

Tina squeezes Mike's hand, and he smiles confidently. "I'm totally cool with it," he declares. "Sign me up."

Mr. Schue's eyebrows rise and drop in an _ooookay_ look. "Alright," he grins, scribbling out Kurt's name from the cast list. "In that case... would you like to be Eddie, Kurt?"

Kurt's face contorts in displeasure. "No offense, Brittany, but I believe I would make a better Riffraff. Perhaps Brittany could double as Columbia?"

Tina throws up her hands. "It's not like Columbia has a million lines to work with."

Mr. Schuester holds his hands out, quieting the low roar of talk threatening to boil over as people compete for roles. "We'll work something out."

* * *

><p>The following week is spent in rehearsals. Apparently Artie has a lot of power in the Audio-Visual club, because, within three days, they've built a sturdy, two-story structure with the handicap elevator attached, modified to move between the stories. Finn as "Brad" has the nerd look going on while Rachel wears... what she usually wears, playing the role of "Janet".<p>

_In the velvet darkness of the blackest night, b__urning bright, there's a guiding star...  
><em>_No matter what or who you are._

Sunshine, Matheus, Hannah, Tina, and Marissa linger behind fake bushes, only emerging to give a faint, collective echo that adds a darker meaning to Rachel's bright, hopeful voice.

_There's a light (over at the Frankenstein place.)  
>There's a light (burning in the fireplace.)<br>There's a light, light... in the darkness of everybody's life.  
><em>

Kurt as "Riffraff" peeks through the iron gates as Brad and Janet wander by; grinning eagerly, Riffraff begins to sing as he unlocks the gates and pushes them open slightly.

_The darkness must go down the river of night's dreaming.  
>Flow Morpheus slow; let the sun and light come streaming<br>Into my life... into my life._

And with that, Brad and Janet stumble upon the illuminated castle and enter.

"Cut!" Mr. Schuester shouts. "Way to go, guys!"

* * *

><p>Carmel High has a soccer match that weekend, so Damian leaves school early and spends the entire afternoon on the high school soccer field, sprinting up and down the field. One guy, a gigantic bald hulk, quickly latches onto him and shadows him the entire game, shouldering Damian aggressively and trying to knock him away from the ball. Push comes to shove, and it ends with Damian driving his shoulder into the guy's sternum harder than he needed to, which leaves the guy on the ground gasping for air. A yellow card is pulled on Damian, who storms off the field. When he sees McKynleigh snapping photos of the interaction though, he reigns himself back in and shoots her a small grin and a thumbs up. She waves back and moves on.<p>

When he is called back on, Damian plays a bit more cautiously, this time working the teamwork angle to its full extent. Samuel works with Damian, creating openings or being a part of them, finally scoring a goal.

The game ends in a tie, and Damian stands underneath the cold shower.

"Damn, Damo, you were a monster on that field," Samuel laughs, slapping Damian on his bare back as turns on the shower next to Damian. Damian doesn't say anything, so Samuel continues. "Now if we could get you to flip out like that off the field sometimes... let the world know that you're more than schoolgirl blushes and smiles..."

Damian socks him hard on the shoulder, and Samuel grins. "That's my little lion man."

After the game, Damian and Samuel ride in McKynleigh's car over to Lindsay's house. McKynleigh seems a little hesitant when Damian asks if she can take them over to surprise her, but eventually when Samuel's cajoling, she agrees.

Damian's never been to Lindsay's house on a Friday—which is technically part of the weekend—but he's still slightly surprised that Lindsay's house is completely silent and the front door is closed. He's always associated her house as being open to all from 4 to 10pm, but apparently that's not the case on weekends. Damian pulls himself up into the front area of the car using the backs of McKynleigh's and Samuel's chairs. "Are they not home?" he asks.

McKynleigh plants a hand on top of his sweaty spikes of hair and shoves him back into the passenger area. "Gross," she groans, wiping her hand on Samuel's already sweaty hot pink shirt. "Oh, double gross. You guys need to take better showers. No, it doesn't seem like anybody's home."

"That's weird," Samuel comments. "Shannon's always at home; unless it's Sunday morning when she goes grocery shopping. Our band used to practice in the garage Friday afternoon before the parties and she'd come down to bring us cheese and crackers and stuff." He looks at Damian. "Wanna go knock on her door?"

Damian thinks a bit. "Nah," he finally decides. "If their door's shut, then it's probably cuz they want privacy. I mean, when they want people, their door's open all the time. So it's probably closed now for a reason."

McKynleigh nods in agreement. "So how are you getting home, Damian?"

"Eh, a friend is going to pick me up at the high school. Have you met Hannah before?"

* * *

><p>There's another person in Hannah's car when she pulls into the parking lot. Damian recognizes the tall, lanky guy from the carnival—Cameron, was it? He shakes Cameron's hand firmly, then introduces Hannah to McKynleigh and Samuel. Hannah immediately hugs McKynleigh and then Samuel hugs Hannah, who laughs in surprise; then they all turn with evil smiles on their faces to Damian. Before he can run for his life, Damian finds himself crushed against Hannah's car under the weight of four bodies (somehow, Cameron got sucked into the group hug, and Hannah is awkwardly pushing Cameron's head into Damian's chest.)<p>

"You guys... are terrible friends," Damian croaks as his face begins to fill with hot blood. "Taking advantage of me..."

Samuel stage-whispers in McKynleigh's ear, but since they're all wrapped around Damian, everybody can hear. "Maybe if we bear hug him enough, he'll snap like he did on the field."

"Angry Damo off the field? Now that I gotta see," she giggles back, then detaches from Damian, causing everybody else to peel off as well.

"We'll see you Monday, right?" Samuel hollers as Damian retreats into the back of Hannah's car. "There'll be more of this at Lindsay's house!" Damian mumbles an affirmative, and Hannah unleashes a booming laugh.

"Nice meeting you!" Hannah yells as she drives away. McKynleigh and Samuel wave, and then disappear from sight as Hannah turns a corner.

"So Cameron, it's good to see you again," Damian says to fill the silence. "Erm..."

"We're practicing for Project G-C-A-M-B-T today," Hannah chirrups from the driver's seat as she edges onto the one-laned highway between Carmel and Lima. "That's pronounced Guh-Cambit."

Damian's eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. "What does G-C-A... um, M... stand for?"

"Get-Cameron-and-Marissa-Back-Together. Didn't you get the massive Facebook message I sent everybody?"

"Uh, I might have skimmed over it."

"Shoot, boy, you play a very important role in the whole scheme of things, since you're her current boyfriend guy. You're like the bait guy, luring her into the auditorium and then giving her away—like the dad at the wedding! Handing her off to Cameron!"

Both Damian and Cameron flush red, but Cameron feels a bit more discomfort. He thought he didn't harbor any feelings towards Marissa's current boyfriend, but now that he's in a closed space with said boyfriend, apparently not. "How is she doing?" he asks Damian.

"Um... well, I haven't been around her much this week. Our Glee club is doing a guys versus girls competition, so I've only seen her during lunch. And, um, we're not allowed to talk to each other..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cameron asks sharply. What about their promise last weekend? When he'd charged Damian to just be a friend to Marissa, and then somehow he's not allowed to talk to her? Where did that come from?

"A rumor's going around that Marissa broke up with me. She was really pissed last weekend during the carnival, and somebody saw me with a friend from Carmel. So... we're not together anymore. Not that we were really going out in the first place."

A deathly pause, in which:

A) a million outrageous thoughts run through Cameron's head;

B) Damian's not sure if he said something wrong, so he shuts up and watches the facial expression pass through Cameron's and Hannah's faces;

C) Hannah turns a deep red and her heart drops. She'd hoped to avoid her little white lie, maybe bury it until this hurdle was passed and maybe bring it out later... but here it was now.

"Say that again?" Cameron enunciates slowly.

"What?" Damian blinks in confusion.

"You just said... that you weren't dating. Were never dating."

It's Damian's turn to blush. "Well, no, we were never in a real relationship. She was helping me, ah, convince the rest of the school that I wasn't... um... gay."

"What." This time it's more of a blank space filler than an actual question.

Damian chuckles nervously. "Well, this girl tried to..." Hannah hasn't heard this side of the story either, so this is all new news. "...she tried to... seduce me... and I ran... so she told the whole school that I didn't like chicks but I definitely like girls but I'm not going to throw myself at any girl just to prove that I'm straight so I asked Marissa if she could pose as my girlfriend and she said that she could act as my girlfriend and she _was_ a really good actress and we just kept playing along and then the carnival happened and now we're not." Damian gulps in air. "And... I'm still straight."

A million thoughts are whirling through Cameron's head. They weren't really dating... they weren't really together. They were just posing as a couple to preserve the transfer student's social status. They were just pretending. It was all an act. That lunch period when Cameron had sneaked into McKinley High so long ago—the light kiss on the cheek, the flirting—it was all just theater. Marissa was an actress, and Damian was an actor. It was fake. So that day that Cameron had skipped school, he could have gone and talked to her, and maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe if he had been able to approach her knowing that she was still single, without a boyfriend, the conversation between them during the carnival might not have happened. He might not still feel the ghost of the sting of her hand on his cheek.

If the boyfriend himself says they weren't really dating... and Damian's rant-in-one-breath just said that Marissa knew that it was all a ploy as well... so then did they tell their friends that it was all an act? And maybe Hannah just didn't know?

One glance at Hannah says it all. Her face is puffy and red and and a single tear has already escaped down her cheek.

Cameron's shocked by this revelation. Hannah, one of his best friends, the one who loves to make people feel loved... knew that Damian and Marissa weren't really dating, yet told him that they were. And then he ran back to Dalton and she didn't tell him the truth all those phone conversations they shared over the next couple weeks. Because she... lied... to him, he didn't have the courage to face Marissa until it was too late.

But it's his fault that he didn't have the courage to approach her first. Hannah might have lied to him, but ultimately he made the decision to ignore the problem yet again. And Hannah was the one who finally kicked his ass into gear. After all, they're headed over to McKinley High right now. This is all Hannah's doing, so it's obvious she knows she screwed up and now she feels like she has to make it up to Cameron by arranging this crazy Project "Guh-Cambit" and roping in all her friends into helping. Cameron's thankful for that.

The question remains, though: why did she lie in the first place?

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note<em>

_Hehe, I'm throwing a tad of dirt on Blaine... but seriously, up until "Silly Love Songs", Blaine was like Absolutely-Perfect-Gay-Narnian-Mentor-Of-Kurt's-Affections. He had no flaws and thus wasn't a believable character to me. (So of course this is what I do to him... [shut up, Inkbender's-Conscious.] No.)_

_I talk to myself in real life too. This is something that was pointed out to me yesterday and I'm shocked by how often I hold lengthy conversations with myself, especially if I'm alone. _

_I'm going to admit, the Rocky Horror Glee Show portion was added on after I wrote the whole thing through, so if it seems discontinuous in the flow of the story... that's because it is. But this story is headed into a super uber long arc and there won't be any breaks in which to insert references to the "Rocky Horror Dream Sequence." My bad._


	19. Project GCAMBT II

It's ironic that the two smallest people in the school are straining to tape posters in high places, but Sunshine and Matheus had insisted that the creaky ladders would be the least likely to break underneath their body weights. So now all Marissa can do is clutch the base of Sunshine's ladder praying that the wooden ladder will hold.

"Thanks for helping out," Marissa says. "Even if it's for environmental club." Most of the club's volunteers had left at 5—it was Friday, after all—leaving Marissa to put the last finishing decorative touches on the Water Saving Awareness Week. Sunshine and Matheus had been wandering the halls for some reason and decided to help her finish up the last touches.

"No problem," Sunshine grins, her pigtails bobbing as she looks down at Marissa. She quickly looks back up at what she's doing. "Wow, it looks so much higher from up here..."

Matheus looks around anxiously. If Marissa doesn't leave within the next ten minutes, he should probably text Hannah and tell her to enter from the back of the school. They didn't know that Marissa would be here while they rehearsed for Project GCAMBT... and having the target wandering in during the rehearsal would completely defeat the purpose. So for now, he and Sunshine are stuck helping Marissa finish up whatever she wants to do while keeping her away from the auditorium.

A phone begins to ring, and Marissa steps away from the ladder. "I'm going to take this call," she tells Sunshine and Matheus before walking away to the other side of the indoor commons. Matheus watches her go, making sure she doesn't step in the direction of the auditorium; she doesn't, instead settling in a corner.

Marissa sits at an empty table in the corner of the empty indoor commons before she pulls out her cell phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Marissa," a low voice speaks. "This is Bryce, from last week."

"Hey! Bryce," she greets cheerfully; a warm feeling rises in her stomach as she remembers his gentle hands closing around hers. His bright smile in a dark face full of outright confidence and swagger. He was definitely a change from nerdy Cameron and shy Damian, a different man. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing great," he replies warmly. "Hey, I was wondering, me and a couple friends were going to spend a Friday night in downtown Carmel, and I thought of you. There's a lot to do in the 'big city' if you go looking for it," Bryce laughs, and Marissa finds herself laughing with him.

"Really? You want me to drive to Carmel? Just to hang out?"

"Com'on, small town girl. Spend a night out of little town Lima for once. Get ready for some big town Halloween party magic."

If Bryce was standing in front of her now, she'd shoot him an incredulous look. As it is, she just lets it settle on her face as she stares into a point in space. "What are you talking about? We're underage!"

The smirk in Bryce's voice is audible. "I've been here a while, I know where to look."

Marissa finds herself smiling uncontrollably. "I'll think about it," she compromises. "I'll call you in an hour."

"Ouch, girl! Well I suppose the drive to Lima takes about an hour. Maybe if I ask you in person..." She can almost see him winking, and the line disconnects. She's left to stare at her phone in amazement—he's so... bold. He literally defines confidence, in himself and the things he believes in. Wow.

But then, for a couple moments, she pulls herself back from the edge of diving in. Is she making another mistake? Diving from the fallout of one relationship into another? A relationship that should have been resolved last year but just unearthed itself? It was last week, but she feel remembers feeling the soft skin of his cheek as she smacked him across the face with the flat of her palm. That had been awful. She'd never thought she would hurt anybody that way, and yet she did. She wants to apologize yet she doesn't want to, because if she does, Cameron might think it's okay to just jump back into her life again, and she isn't ready for that. She's sorry for physically assaulting him, but what she said verbally needed to be said and she isn't sorry for that.

As for what he said to her... about her not being good enough for herself so that she starved herself to change her body and put on a fake mask to hide what she couldn't change... she didn't want to hear that, but the more and more she thinks about it, the more she realizes there's truth in Cameron's words. She may not have wanted to hear them, but they had to come from somebody. Maybe the reason why Damian basically said _I don't love you_ that time during the New Directions performance was simply because he didn't love her, and not because she wasn't good enough for him.

Just because what Cameron says is true, though, doesn't mean that she has to like him. She still feels a slight bitter resentment towards him and his cowardice and him avoiding her for so long and only appearing within the past two months.

But just because she hasn't wrapped things up with one guy, does that mean that she can't explore options with another? Marissa's not sure, but Bryce is a change of pace that she really wants to try. So she stands up, puts her phone in her pocket, and walks forward with her mind made up. "Sunshine, Matheus: thanks for your guys' help. I think I'm going to call it a day; a friend's going to pick me up in an hour or so." She busies herself with cleaning up scraps of paper, and so misses the frantic look that passes between the two short people.

Matheus excuses himself to the bathroom, where he calls Hannah frantically.

* * *

><p>Finn pokes his head into the astronomy classroom; sure enough, Quinn is perched on one of the desks, her cell phone in her hand. "Did you get my message?" she asks softly.<p>

Finn smiles sheepishly. "No, actually; I walked into the auditorium, except Mike and Tina were already there setting up sound equipment for something-"

"Did they see you?" Quinn asks sharply, the intense, calculating look warping her pretty features.

Finn has a good idea of why Quinn called him here - a seductive "Meet me in the auditorium after school" earlier that afternoon caused his heart to thrum excitedly, coupled with the small peck that followed sent fireworks exploding across the darkness of his closed eyelids. Wanting to get down to business as soon as possible, Finn lies. "No, they didn't see me."

In reality, Tina had chased him out of the auditorium, quietly closing the doors behind him as she made him swear that he would tell a living soul about whatever was going down. Finn figured she was being emo-dramatic as usual, but he has no intention of prying into Mike and Tina's affairs.

"Why are you here?" Quinn suddenly challenges.

Finn restrains himself from running across the classroom and roughly closing the distance between their lips. So she wants to talk. No, she wants to dance. She wants to dance circles around him, play with him and find whether he's willing to play the role. After all, she still is officially going out with Sam. Quinn can be quite the politician when it comes down to it. So he speaks honestly, walking slowly across the room to sit next to her. "Well... you know, when you really love someone, you'll do anything for them." He bumps shoulders with her tenderly, smiling. "Why are you here?"

"I don't know," she whispers, leaning into him slowly. "But I'm going to find out."

When their lips meet gently in the silence of the astronomy classroom, deafening and brilliant fireworks explode.

* * *

><p>Why had Hannah lied in the first place?<p>

Cameron's mind is a hot mess of questions he can't answer, but Hannah breaks the silence by hitting the emergency flashers and pulling over to the far shoulder of the road. As soon as she parks the car, the tears start streaming freely down her face. "This is... this is all my fault," she sobs, desperately wiping her tears on her sleeves. "I... I..."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Cameron says softly, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. "I'm not mad at you."

"You should be. I lied to you about Damian."

"Maybe I don't know why you lied to me in the first place, but, whatever your reasons, we're here now, right?" Cameron's face breaks into a small smile. "We're actually driving back to McKinley High to practice an apology song. And you're the one who told me I needed to straight up communicate with her instead of waiting around."

"But... but by lying to you, you never went and talked to Marissa that day... and she waited for you the entire time. If you'd gone and talked to her that day, maybe she wouldn't have gone and bitch-slapped you."

Cameron falters for a moment—he can't think of what to say to that, because it might be true. Unconsciously, his gaze flickers to Damian, who takes that as permission to intrude. "Hannah," Damian speaks up, "What really matters is that Cameron was the one who made the decision not to talk to Marissa that day."

Cameron nods; yes, incriminate himself, and not Hannah. Hannah is a girl who crumbles under pressure; it wouldn't help Project GCAMBT if she had a breakdown eight miles out of Lima. "Maybe you helped persuaded me not to talk to her," Cameron continues, "But I made the decision to wait around until I randomly saw her at the carnival. So it's my fault, not yours."

"This doesn't make sense," Hannah hiccups. "Why am I accusing myself and you're defending me? It should be the other way around."

Cameron grins. "Hannah, I love you."

Hannah sniffles and dries her eyes. "Well, I love you too. ...More than you know."

"So... why did you... lie?"

Hannah grins halfheartedly. "That's another story. For another day."

"Uh, guys?" Damian squeaks for the backseat. "I just got an emergency voicemail from Matheus." He puts his cell phone on speaker.

"Oh crud oh crud oh crud," Matheus' voice echoes in a small space. "This is an emergency! For some reason, none of you guys are picking up, but me and Sunshine ran into Marissa setting up decorations for some Save the Earth Awareness Week and we overheard her talking to another guy and she's going on a date with him in an hour! Sunshine acted as secondary authority in your place, Hannah; I've already contacted everybody else. Code Black: we are moving Project GCAMBT into emergency mode! I repeat, Code Black!"

By the time Matheus has finished his voicemail, Hannah is already zooming down the highway 20 mph over the speed limit. Damian hurriedly buckles himself in as they fly down the straight path. "What the heck is 'Code Black' supposed to mean?"

"Shoot, Damian, if you had actually _read_ the Facebook message, you would know all five codes!"

"What?"

"Code Black means that we're doing the apology performance right now: five minutes for everybody to gather, eight minutes to set up and get into the set positions, and two minutes to lure Marissa into the auditorium. Everybody has their roles, and yours, Damian, is the bait guy."

"What?"

"Use your best-friend/fake-boyfriend skills to lure her in, but don't make it about yourself, cause it's really all about Cameron!" She points to the glove compartment. "Cam, I think I printed out a set of codes. Could you fetch them for Damian?"

Cameron digs around and hands a sheet of paper back to Damian, who scans the sheet. Sunshine on lights and curtains, Matheus on the drums, Tina on the keyboard, Mike on the sound board, Damian as the bait, and Hannah on the balcony signaling and orchestrating everybody else. Damian looks at the back of Hannah's head in awe. "You came up with this?"

"Me? Of course not! Well maybe. Cam came up with the original idea and Mat and Sunny and I were already going to do something about it anyways, and then we roped you and Mike and Tina into it all. But we haven't actually practiced it yet," Hannah worries as they tear through residential streets. "Mike was supposed to secure the headsets on Monday, but now we're doing Code Black. Send a text back to Matheus, will you, Damian, saying that we're going to use Code Pink's laser pointer as the communicative signal instead."

Cameron cuts in anxiously, "Hannah, maybe this is all a bit rushed; if she's going on a date with another guy—"

"—then you need to squeeze in there before she makes a huge mistake," Hannah finishes. "You don't bounce straight into another relationship if you haven't tied up your first one yet. And Marissa has _not_ resolved things with you yet. Whether she still loves you or hates your guts, she needs to get over those feelings before she goes out with another guy, because if she does, she'll be dumping all the crap she has about you onto his shoulders. And that's not fair to the other guy. So it sucks that she's making the bad decision, but you have the chance to squeeze in there and make her reconsider. Make her decide to wait a bit longer until she resolves her feelings about you on her own, or talk to her then and there and fix things between you." Hannah pulls into the parking lot behind the school and parks the car roughly. "We're ten minutes behind schedule, go go go!"

* * *

><p>Marissa's just a little excited. Okay, maybe really excited. When was the last time she went on a date? Okay, plenty of coffee dates with girlfriends, but this is going to be a whole new experience. She could use a real break, not just a shopping trip with babbling Glee girls. And so what if a really cute guy was facilitating the excursion?<p>

Really, she's just trying to make the little nagging voice in the back of her mind shut up. It isn't very loud, but it's very insistent. Shouldn't she think about this a bit more...?

But hey, spontaneity is a good thing, right? Taking risks: heartbreak or striking it rich. She'll never know unless she tries.

She's about to pull out her phone and send off an _I'm waiting..._ text to Bryce when footsteps jog up behind her. She glances briefly to check who it is and then does a double take. "Damian?"

"Hey, Marissa," he says breathlessly. "You said you're in theater, right? Have you been in this school's auditorium before?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

"I think I might have left my leather jacket in there, but all the lights in the auditorium have been turned off. Could you help me?"

Marissa looks at the clock. Bryce probably won't be here for at least another twenty minutes. She definitely has time. "Sure. I haven't been around this particular stage before, but there are usually some backstage..."

Damian leads the way to the auditorium, pulling the door open for her when they get there. The entire place is pitch dark, except for the dim lights that line the aisles. "I think I left it somewhere in the middle section, up front," Damian says as he runs up to the stage. "You said the lights were backstage?"

"Yeah, they're probably off to the—" Damian doesn't even wait for her directions; he just disappears into the darkness behind the stage, leaving her alone in the darkness of the auditorium. Soon afterward (much too early for Damian to have found them) the lights to the stage snap on, illuminating the drawn curtains. From the light reflecting off the curtains, Marissa sees Damian's leather jacket slung over the back of one of the chairs, smack dab in the middle of the seats.

...Okay. That was too fortuitous. Marissa edges her way to the middle of the section and is about to pick up the leather jacket—she still remembers the warm, comforting smell it exuded at the carnival during that acapella jazz song—when the curtains are drawn noisily to the side. Their _Rocky Horror Glee Show_ props are still sitting around, with the two-story interior of Dr. Frank N. Furter's mansion set up and the elevator in working order. Somebody steps out from the metal cage and walks to middle stage... oh god. This is not happening.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

__Dun dun DUN! Just saying, this next chapter is the pivotal moment of the entire story - it was the first scene I thought up, and then I plotted events leading up to it and what would happen afterward, and reviewers suggested what they wanted and gave me more ideas, and then this monster of a fanfiction came out. But let me assure you, we are FAR from over. We're not even halfway yet. Actually, I don't know where halfway is, cuz I don't know where this ends =P__

__Thanks to all you reviewers! __

**_**maggielyn:**_**__ thanks for the compliment! ...but I feel like my writing is getting worse, haha. At least my detail to consistency is deteriorating, as pointed out by __**_**Binx23**_**__. She also brought up the point of Dameron - not romantically involved, but as best friends, something that I love from the show and that I'll try to incorporate into this story. __

**_**polarpi**_**__ and __**_**Juliet Hummel-Anderson:**_**__ the guy going down on Blaine... to be honest, he was a blank filled by a certain character from Season 3 of Glee. Guess?__

**_**Arianna Lillian:**_**__ it wouldn't make for much of a story if the pairings immediately got together... so that's something I'm going to continue to play with. I love Ashley Fink's quote during Sexuality, when she said "Teenagers are just finding out who they are, trying people and relationships on like clothes." __

**_**BrittanaLoveInFormOfAnonymous:**_**__hopefully chapters will start coming more frequently now that I'll be writing just single chapters instead of two. __

**_**The-Riddle-Heiress: **_**___Hannah might get some of her own lovin',_____ though I've sorta relegated her to THE FRIEND position to everybody. __

**_**ForeverYoursEmma **_**__and __**_**Erinlee:**_**__ Damian ___is ___straight, and he just wants to make sure it's well known.__

**_**pleaseandkarats, smileyface197**_****_,_**__ and __**_**wormyrug:**_**__ __The first couple arcs are mostly Marissa-focused, but __Lindsay will take up a lot of time in future arcs.__

**_**Shelby-Belby, **_****_**OBSESSED DDD, **_****_**xIchig0x, xxBlaineXKurtxx, Keiki13, slotes123, Calypso C, symphonies in the dawn**_****_, _****_**Rouge, ItsCanonNow**_****_, _****_**A-M-A-Z-I-N-G, Dont I Get A Dream For Myself**_****_, _****_**Morgan97, Kfisten,**_**__**_**MyTrainDance27, flmstry, ThisIsTiff**_****_, _**__and __**_**xXcoolkat390Xx**_**

__A big shout-out to **Fiat Noctum**, who is a serial reviewer with a heckuva lot of constructive criticism! Seriously, the best reviewer a writer could ask for :)__


	20. Project GCAMBT III

_**Featured songs:**  
><em>"_Mess I Made" by Parachute_

* * *

><p>"Marissa." It's Cameron, standing center stage with his familiar guitar hanging in front of him. He's wearing normal clothes—as normal as Cameron can get, with a tight dark shirt under a light cardigan and jeans skinnier than hers, and the lanyard hanging around his neck and the huge black glasses. "This is me saying sorry as best as I can," he speaks, "Without screwing up royally. Hence, apology by song."<p>

Marissa bites her lip and folds her arms. She hadn't been aware that Damian knew Cameron. Probably through Hannah. How many people are in on this? She almost considers walking out—Bryce is going to be here in fifteen minutes. But then again, she doesn't want to risk disappointing Hannah and Damian as well. Besides, instead of just avoiding her, Cameron's actively trying to communicate with her; she's got to give him that.

And she's got to communicate to him that it's too late. So she remains standing, her arms folded. Cameron smiles faintly when she stays put and begins to pluck his guitar strings. Somewhere off the stage, a keyboard begins to play.

_Should've kissed you there, I should've held your face.  
>I should've watched those eyes instead of run in place.<br>I should've called you out, I should've said your name.  
>I should've turned around, I should've looked again.<em>

_But ohh, I'm staring at the mess I made, I'm staring at the mess I made._  
><em>I'm staring at the mess I made as you turn, you take your heart and walk away.<em>

His eyes lock with hers, pleading. Another instrument is added on top of the keyboard accompaniment, beating a rhythm on the drums. Keyboard, drums, and guitar blend together perfectly, leading Marissa to believe this is either pre-recorded or that two people are playing live backstage; either way, Cameron has convinced a lot of people to join him, because to her knowledge, Hannah and Damian have no affinity for musical instruments. Marissa shakes her head in wonder.

_And it's you...  
>And it's you...<br>And it's you...  
>And it's you... <em>

Marissa recognizes Cameron's distinctive howl for each drawn out note, starting high and pure and stepping its way down slowly. On the last repetition, he transitions straight from the howl into the nostalgic bridge and the forceful chorus.

_And it's falling down as you walk away...  
>And it's on me now as you go...<br>But ohh, I'm staring at the mess I made, I'm staring at the mess I made.  
>I'm staring at the mess I made as you turn, you take your heart and walk away.<em>

Cameron walks off the stage, down the aisle, and between the rows of seats to get to her. He keeps his eyes on her the entire time, begging her to understand.

_And it's falling down as you walk away...  
>And it's on me now as you go... <em>

_But ohh, I'm staring at the mess I made, I'm staring at the mess I made.  
>I'm staring at the mess I made as you turn, you take your heart and walk away.<em>

He's standing three seats over when he stops and speaks. "I'm sorry that I hurt you and I want to make it up to you." He takes a deep, calming breath. "I know that by isolating myself emotionally from everybody around me, all I did was hurt everybody I knew. Especially you. And I'm sorry I didn't listen and I didn't speak from the bottom of my heart when you tried to change yourself for me. I'm... terrible at communication, but that's something I'm trying to fix right now." He fiddles nervously with his guitar strap. "You were perfect to me as you were two years ago and you're still perfect the way you are now." He steps closer to her, his enthusiasm plain on his face. "And... and I'm trying to learn from my mistakes... I've made a lot of them, and they've all been stupid, but Marissa, I don't want to see you hurt again, especially because of me."

Marissa looks into his earnest face, tinged red with genuine emotion, then down at the ground as she sinks into a seat. She taps the armrest of the chair next to her, indicating Cameron to take a seat as well. When he settles down with a seat between them, she scoots over one seat so that they're sitting right next to each other. So that there isn't so much separation between them. "Thank you," she murmurs sincerely. "For this. How many people—never mind, don't answer that. It's sweet that you orchestrated this."

Cameron waits for her next words.

Marissa takes one of his hands off his guitar and just holds it in hers. His hand is just soft, but rough at the fingertips from strumming the stringed instrument. "About hurting you last week—that was uncalled for. What I did to you was terrible, and I'm sorry about that. But what we said to each other that day needed to be said. What I said to you and what you said to me... stung, but it was because they were true."

"Marissa..." Cameron's hand tightens around her own.

"Thank you, Cam. For finally talking to me and letting me talk to you. For opening yourself up to me and telling me what I needed to hear when I opened myself up. But I don't think I'm ready yet." She bites her lip when Cameron finally breaks eye contact with her to stare downwards. "I... I did love you. But... I've moved on." The hand held in hers has gone slack, and, with his free hand, Cameron removes his glasses and wipes his sleeve across his eyes.

She feels terrible for giving him a terrible ending to a move he put so much effort into. He looks absolutely miserable. Without thinking, she puts his hand down on the armrest, leans over, and kisses him gently on the cheek. His skin is flushed with blood and warm to the touch. He doesn't respond at all, though, and she begins to pull away.

Abruptly, his eyes lock onto her face and he leans forward, closing the gap between their lips. Nothing aggressive or intrusive; just a gentle pressure against her that causes her to freeze before she dissolves and closes her eyes.

_Summer nights, lying on the trampoline in Marissa's backyard. Hannah has already gone home and it's just Cameron and Marissa lying with their heads together. The stars are out and the night is a perfect cool to the searing hot afternoon._

_Marissa tilts her head to the side so she can see Cameron's profile. His eyes are closed, so she steals his box-frame glasses and rams them on her own head._

"_Hey!" he yelps, tilting his head to face her. She blinks innocently back at him through his glasses. _

"_These... I can see perfectly fine through these glasses. You're not really blind, are you?" Marissa asks in wonder, pushing back stubborn frizzy strands of her red hair. "Why do you wear the glasses if you don't need them?"_

"_Why shouldn't I wear them?" Cameron counters. "They're like part of my style."_

"_Nerd style?"_

"_And proud of it," Cameron smirks._

_Without thinking, Marissa blurts, "I think you look cuter without them."_

_Cameron doesn't miss a beat. "You think so?"_

"_Uh, um, what I, guh, what I meant is..."_

_Cameron rolls over onto his side and props his head up with an arm. "With or without my glasses, you're pretty either way," he grins. "But let's take them off anyways, cause that's the way I know you." As soon as he pulls the glasses off her face, he leans over and kisses her softly._

Marissa opens her eyes and pulls away. Cameron's bright gray eyes stare back at her with so much emotion flowing out of them as she stands. As she does so, her phone buzzes audibly to the both of them. "I... I gotta go," she stutters, feelings roiling restlessly in her gut. Damn.

She doesn't mean to, but she runs. Runs out of that auditorium, all the way down the halls, through the indoor commons, and into the parking lot, where a smiling Bryce is waiting next to a black Range Rover.

* * *

><p>Lindsay finally collapses on a couch at home, absolutely exhausted. Her body has been worked over thoroughly and she feels like a limp bag of noodles, but she needs to pick herself up and eat something before night school at seven. She should just drop everything else now; there's no way she'll be able to continue with school anddinners and soccer andtheater. At least she doesn't have to do homework anymore.<p>

But she doesn't want to let go of it all just yet. There are people anchoring her each of those activities—Mr. Johnson and his beautiful hippie wife from her art elective, Kay and Alyssa from theater, Sarah from soccer, and all the regulars who stop by her house for free dinners—McKynleigh and Samuel and... and Damian.

It hurts to think about Damian. How he never told any of them that he had a girlfriend, how he just let Lindsay fall for him and even encouraged it with returns of his own. How, even this past week, he seemed to just come on stronger to her as she pulled away. She'd find him staring more often, trying to talk to her as she remained silent, opening up a bit more and responding freely when Samuel tried to push his buttons.

And the minute she got home, her mother told her that McKynleigh stopped by with Samuel and Damian earlier this afternoon but drove away without coming up to knock. Her mom had shut the front door because she didn't think anybody would come if Lindsay wasn't home.

Why would Damian flirt with her if he already has a girlfriend? Marissa, at that. She used to be different, but she went to fat camp one summer and returned as a completely different personality in a new body. Marissa is perfect, and Damian's lucky to have her. Lindsay, on the other hand, is mediocre. Just on junior varsity soccer, just a secondary character in theater productions, just another girl with A- and B+. And Damian doesn't seem like the ladies' man, juggling two girls at once. So why does he show interest in her?

Lindsay stretches every muscle in his body, then relaxes everything, draping her body haphazardly over the couch. Who knew that your body could learn and keep so much muscle memory within a couple hours. Even now she's running over the routine in her mind, over and over and over again, taking over all her thoughts...

"Mooooooom," she croaks. "I'm hungry and I can't move."

"Aww, poor sweetie," her mother coos from the kitchen. "Don't worry, I'm mixing a vitamin-rich, non-filling salad and lukewarm water with honey for you right now. No dairy products. Gotta keep you loose and fresh for tonight."

Lindsay pouts. "Salad? Are you kidding me? You were always a steak-and-potatoes kind of mom."

"Yes, honey, that's what your father and I are eating. You have salad. Spinach, because iceberg lettuce has no nutritional value whatsoever."

Lindsay unleashes a tired howl of despair that only sends her mother chortling in evil laughter. Not only is her new schedule draining her of social life, but it's also depriving her of good food. She looks down at her stomach: just a little plump, but that's because her mom is amazing. _Ughhhh..._

She briefly considers that it's not worth it but mentally slaps herself away from the thought. It's not like she has a choice in the matter anymore; she might have made the initial decision, but once she showed up on that first day, higher powers became involved and now she can never escape. So now, she can either look at her situation now as just the beginning of eternal hell... or as the opportunity of her lifetime.

Even if she has to cut everything else from her old life loose. Theater, soccer, friends... Damian.

* * *

><p>Rachel doesn't want to believe that Finn might be ignoring her. She's called him maybe twelve times over the past few hours and his phone always goes straight to voicemail. Sure, they'd broken up on the mutual decision last week that they should spend a little time away from each other for breathing room—after all, physical separation was the test of relationships, and if they persevered, their bond would be that much stronger. Rachel had been the one to suggest it, though Finn had seized upon the idea a bit too eagerly. But Rachel's sure that Finn will eventually realize what he's missing, and until he comes around, Rachel is willing to wait.<p>

But this matter is urgent, and she needs to talk to Finn now. Only he isn't responding. Finally, Rachel resorts to the next option, mentally preparing herself.

"What do you want?"

"Hello, Kurt, it's Rachel."

"Well I can obviously see that. Was there something you wanted? This almond torte is going to fall flat if I neglect it while talking to you."

Rachel chooses to take compliment at Kurt's brusque communication: he's taking time to talk to her, unlike a certain somebody. "Will you be attending my party this weekend?"

"I don't have anything else planned," he says cautiously.

"And your stepbrother, Finn?"

"He hasn't come back from school yet." As if predicting her next question, he quickly adds, "I don't feel like spying on him for you either."

Rachel purses her lips, trying to come up with some bribe. "I suppose I'll have to have Mercedes help me decorate my house's basement then," she says wistfully. "I have access to my dads' credit cards, after all..."

Kurt appears to be resisting the urge, but Rachel smiles when he gives in to the desire to spread his sense of fashion over an entire room, instead of just his own body. "Are you kidding? The girl may have an eye for what looks good on herself, but she has no flair when it comes to interior décor. And I have to run to the store for sliced almonds, I'll stop by the high school."

* * *

><p>Sunshine, Tina, Mike, Matheus, Hannah, and Damian all emerge from backstage, but Hannah and Damian are the only two that travel down to sit on either side of Cameron.<p>

"Thanks," Cameron says hoarsely from his position slumped over his guitar. "Hannah. And all your friends. Thanks."

Hannah switches her crossed legs. "Don't get so down on yourself. There's still Phase—"

Cameron shakes his head vigorously. "It's over."

Hannah stops, shocked. Damian picks it back up. "She kissed you."

Cameron pauses. "She said it was over."

"And then she kissed you," Damian insists.

"And then she fled," Cameron retorts.

"Which only says that she's still conflicted over her feelings," Damian argues. "I can't say that I know her better than you or Hannah, but I've spent the past five weeks or so in pretty close contact with her, and I'll say that she doesn't know what to think."

"I don't know what to think either," Cameron confesses. "I finally said what I had to say and we both understand where the other's coming from. So I'm going to leave it at that." He places his glasses back on his face and looks at Damian and Hannah. "I'll... I'll wait for her until she's ready. Until she finally opens up for me, but until then... I don't know. I don't know what I'll do. But thank you guys, so, so, so much." Cameron rises to his feet and, with his long legs, steps over Damian, saunters up the stairs, and disappears backstage to where his guitar case is stored.

As soon as Cameron disappears, Hannah waves her arms wildly at the rest of the people still standing on the stage. "Code Red. Meet on Monday!"

Damian glances at Hannah skeptically. "But Cameron just said..."

Hannah rolls her eyes. "And that's what Code Red is for. Shoot, Damian; you gotta stay on top of things. Check your Facebook more often."

Damian pulls the folded sheet of paper out of his back pocket and scans the five codes listed there. When he reads the line describing Code Red, a look of disbelief passes across his face. "You've got to be kidding me..."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note<em>

_Let it be known that "Mess I Made" was the inspiration for this entire story! No joke. The first week the show came out, I was reading another story with Cameron/Marissa and then this song came on Pandora, and BAM. Inspiration. So if you skipped over the lyrics (like I do when I read other fictions... most of the time they're not even applicable to the story and thus are unnecessary to the plot), go back and read the lyrics in context! Maybe even go look it up and listen on Youtube, if you are so inclined—because that song inspired my Cameron/Marissa plot._

_Ha! **Fiat Noctum** totally called Marissa's reaction. Project GCAMBT succeeded, but not in the way Cameron (and most of you readers) would have liked... _

_Also, to address s__omething brought up by **Binx23**... this story has come up with so many of its own plotlines, I can hardly claim that it still follows the second season. In fact, due to all the original plotlines, I might as well have set "GP:LOL!" in the future, or the third season, since I haven't included original Glee characters as much as I would have hoped. I'm trying to return to those roots, as well as mixing Glee and Glee Project characters together (something I intended to do originally but failed when I switched things up). _

_Anyways, the point is that I'm barely following the second season - chronologically at least. Finn and Rachel break up, Quinn cheats on Sam with Finn, Sam breaks up with Quinn and gets with Santana - in "GP:LOL!", all this happens before Sectionals. I'm using events but I'm not really following a set path. _

_I suppose I should start gearing things up for Sectionals. Hmph. And getting the Glee club to band up together as a family, bringing it to the foreground, etc. Up till now, I've focused mostly on the character's social lives and interactions outside of extracurricular activities like Glee club or sports. Time to re-evaluate my game plan - but first, I've got to finish this arc and the next, which all happen in one night._


	21. Blame It I

_A/N: This is the second chapter of the double-post reward for exceeding 500 reviews! This is going to be the last double-post for a while, cause, as I've stressed before, double-posts are stressful! But 500 reviews is such a milestone, so here it is. Anyways, this chapter probably won't make a lot of sense if you don't read the previous one, so go back and read it. AND REVIEW IT. And then come back here._

* * *

><p>Marissa calls her parents and says she'll be out late—it's not something too uncommon, since she's always working on school projects or volunteering somewhere—and hops in Bryce's car. He even kicks somebody out of shotgun when she approaches his car, and when she modestly refuses the seat of honor, he sweeps her off her feet and deposits her in the leather seat.<p>

He cranks the radio on and begins belting the lines of the song, and soon everybody in the car is dancing and singing along.

_Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away,  
>Beating like a drum and it's coming your way.<br>Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, bass? Yeah that's that super bass.  
><em>

It's like a mini party in a car. Marissa looks around in disbelief as a dark-skinned girl with a pixie cut begins to pop her body in time with each _boom badoom_. A heavyset African-American next to her with a colorful scarf wrapped around his shoulders begins to rap right along with the song, while on her other side, a skater-looking type with dark stubble arm-pumps to the beat.

McKynleigh, Alex, and Nick. That's all she gets before the next song and impromptu dance party starts. In the next break, she asks to anybody who will listen, "So how do you know Bryce?"

The fashionable one begins to reply, but then he squeals, "Ooo, I love this song!" and promptly ignores her.

McKynleigh leans forward instead. "Hey, I didn't catch your name..."

Marissa leans back. "I'm Marissa."

The strangest look passes over McKynleigh's face: wonder, shock, and maybe a bit of prejudice, but before Marissa can interpret it deeper than surface value, McKynleigh's wiped it off and replaced it with a clean smile. "Bryce and I messed around a bit when he first got here, but after a few months it was a mutual decision that we were better off as good friends. Alex and Nick are both pretty cool guys from Bryce's hometown, Westerville. Oh, I gotta sing this part."

McKynleigh briefly breaks off talking to Marissa to shout, pop, and lock to:

_Last Friday night, yeah, we danced on tabletops, and we took too many shots, think we kissed but I forgot  
>Last Friday night, yeah, we maxed our credit cards, and got kicked out of the bar so we hit the boulevard<br>Last Friday night, we went streaking in the park, skinny dipping in the dark, then had a ménage à trois  
>Last Friday night, yeah, I think we broke the law, always say we're gonna stop<br>This Friday night, do it all again._

"Sorry about that," McKynleigh laughs as soon as she finishes. "But I break into song often."

The rest of the car ride is a lot of pumping dancing music. Bryce drives with his knee and sips from a bottle wrapped in a paper bag ("Lemonade," he grins, but when Marissa steals a sip and the carbonation fills her mouth with fizz, she tastes the undertone of alcohol.)

It's wild, Bryce has such a control over the situation and nobody in the back is freaking out, so Marissa keeps a lid on it and they pull into downtown Carmel without a hitch.

"You haven't had dinner yet?" Bryce exclaims as their group walk down the street. "Geez, I'm such a screw up. Never mind, I know this awesome burger place..." He checks her out briefly, "Or maybe a nicer place with salads or whatever? It's on me, babe."

Marissa shakes her head. "It's okay, a burger—"

"No way, girl," he interrupts. "We gotta get you something good." He places a casual arm around her shoulder and steers her away from the people following behind them. "Hey, you guys go on ahead," he declares. "We're gonna grab a bite to eat. Meet you at the park in half an hour?"

Alex looks suspicious; Nick shrugs like he could care less; but McKynleigh looks downright disapproving. Despite McKynleigh's previous assurance that she and Bryce are just friends, Marissa's afraid that she might have just stepped into something she didn't know about. "It's alright," Marissa lies, stepping away from Bryce's body. "I'm not really—"

Her stomach growls loudly, audible even as cars pass on the road behind them. Bryce raises a eyebrow. "Really, it's your stomach."

Marissa unconsciously glances at McKynleigh, who shrugs and turns to Alex. "A burger sounds nice," she says weakly, and Bryce is pulling her down the sidewalk the next moment. She shoots one last worried glance over her shoulder at McKynleigh and is not encouraged by the expression on her face—not jealousy, but plain dislike of the situation.

* * *

><p>By the time Kurt pulls into McKinley High's parking lot, it's almost empty. There are only two extremely beat-up cars left. One of them Kurt recognizes as Hannah's; humorous memories come to mind of their duet practice a couple weeks earlier. Since then, they sit next to each other during Ohio History and share homework, but not much more—they're acquaintances at best.<p>

At that moment, Hannah walks out of an exit in the back of the auditorium. A tall, lanky guy follows right behind her, guitar case slung over his shoulder. His entire posture is slumped over in dejection and defeat, and, as if to compensate, Hannah's attitude is twice as cheerful, though somber enough to not annoy the guy. Kurt recognizes him from somewhere. He can't remember, but he knows it's important—

Blaine. That guy is Blaine's roommate. Blaine. There are no words for Blaine. The moment the bright-eyed, dark-haired boy had sung _Teenage Dream_ directly to him, Kurt knew he'd fallen in love. The guy was so strong, so eloquent, so perfect. Kurt suddenly finds an overwhelming desire to see his face again.

Kurt slaps himself mentally. _No, that's really creepy_, he rebukes himself. _And stalkerish. What are you going to do, stalk Cameron to get access to his roommate, who might not even be available?_

_Maybe,_ another side of Kurt considers. Maybe he'll call Blaine, casually asking to hang out on a Friday night. He doesn't know how to get to Dalton Academy, but he can follow Hannah there.

The sudden want to hang out with another boy like him pushes his hand. Maybe it's because Kurt's been alone for so long that he yearns for company; maybe it's because of Karofsky's escalation in targeting him for bullying; maybe Kurt just wants a change of pace, spending a night out with potential friends instead of sitting at home alone. But Kurt needs a similarly-minded companion tonight, and so he dials the number into his phone as he follows Hannah out of the parking lot.

* * *

><p>Alex turns to McKynleigh as they walk to the park. "How long do you think this one is going to last?" he asks eagerly.<p>

McKynleigh is deep in thought. A head full of beautiful red tresses, drop dead gorgeous looks, a perfect body... this is probably the Marissa that Lindsay spoke of when referring to Damian's girlfriend. The girl who unintentionally broke Lindsay's heart just by getting to Damian first. And now Marissa's going to stomp all over Lindsay's self control by cheating on Damian with a sweet-talking guy who cycles through girlfriends once a month. Maybe once every two months, if the girl is special and different enough.

And Marissa is different: not in the way that she's unbelievably pretty, because Bryce has gone through that, but because she's not the usual type that Bryce has. Marissa isn't the flirty sweet girl that falls for Bryce's moves instantly and sticks as stubbornly as a leech, eventually sucking all the attention she can get out of him before he has to tear her off so he can breathe freely again. Marissa is a lot more reserved with a lot of layers that Bryce can have fun peeling off, getting down to her very core. It'll probably keep him occupied for a while.

But Marissa... she already has a boyfriend. A nice guy with a sweet accent at that, who's incredibly shy, won't push things if she doesn't want it. Damian's just so nice. Even if Marissa's bored or wants something different, Damian doesn't deserve what she's doing to him right now. And Lindsay doesn't deserve to hold herself back when she could be completely devoted to Damian, unlike Marissa who's taking side trip thrill rides with the wild guys. This is so messed up. Why is Marissa doing this to Damian and indirectly Lindsay?

"She's not his usual stuff," Nick comments. "He'll have fun with a change of pace."

"I'm not sure about her though," McKynleigh counters as the simple park into view: a wide grassy expanse with a simple play structure in the middle. "I've heard about her before. She's got history."

Alex's eyes sparkle. "Do tell."

"Wait," Nick cuts in. "First, without knowing any background information, predict how long she's going to last."

Alex has the uncanny ability to determine the length and strength of relationships among people he's spent a bit of time observing, even with only the most basic information, so McKynleigh holds her tongue.

"Welllll," Alex drawls. "She won't stand a chance once Emily gets through with her. I say three weeks at most."

* * *

><p>"Well, here we are," Hannah grins, stopping in the back parking lot of Dalton Academy. "Back to sneaking into your dorms, pretending like you were never gone. We've been doing a lot of that recently, haven't we?"<p>

Cameron sighs, running his hands down his face and dragging his eyelids down comically. His glasses hang from his V-neck shirt like a pair of clear sunglasses. "Not anymore," he exhales, then looks at her with red eyes. He looks completely different without his eyewear. In the darkness of evening, he looks pretty normal, actually. Like another teenager on the street, if you didn't look at the cardigan. Like any other teenage guy crazy about teenage girls. In fact, all the songs he's written by himself are about girls.

He probably pictures a particular girl in mind when he writes them.

And it's probably not Hannah that he thinks of when he writes his songs.

"Hannah?" Cameron's looking at her. He's turned sideways in the passenger seat so that his back is propped up against the door, facing her. "I just want to know. We've already established that it's not your fault."

Hannah's stomach drops. Please not now...

"Why did you lie?" Cameron continues, looking her straight in the eye. His eyes are intense, unshielded by his reflective glasses, even in the dimming light of the evening. They pierce her straight through and she can't breathe.

"Please, Cam," she whispers. "Not now."

Cameron cracks a small smile. "No, I'm on a communicative roll today. Might as well get all the bad gross stuff into the light right now while I'm feeling so great. Remember, I'm not blaming you... so tell me why you lied that day. About Damian and Marissa."

"Cam... I can't," Hannah murmurs, trying to keep her voice steady. "I just... I can't."

Cameron's eyes continue to bore holes in hers, and for the briefest instant, Hannah sees something turn sour in his pupils. Then it's gone and Cameron just looks disappointed. "Okay. Fine. I just thought that we didn't keep secrets from each other. Nothing to hide from each other, shedding light on things and all."

Her voice breaks this time, and she knows he's been through a lot today, but it doesn't mean that he can take it out on her. "Secrets, huh? This whole relationship thing that we're trying to fix—the one I didn't know about until last month—is a pretty big secret to keep from one of your best friends."

She realizes instantly, even before something breaks in Cameron's expression, that she just stepped over the line. Sure, maybe he'd pushed his toe over it first, but she'd landed the final blow that broke the camel's back. Cameron reaches behind himself and pulls the door handle, stepping backwards neatly and out of her car. "I'm sorry," he says stiffly, shouldering his guitar case. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No, Cameron..." Hannah calls, but he shuts the door. The window is still rolled down, though, and he just stands there. "Cam, I... I..."

His voice is softer when he speaks again, leaning down to stick his head in the open window. His glasses hang precariously from his shirt. "Thank you. So much. For tonight. For helping with Marissa. I'm... really, really blessed to have you as a friend." As he straightens up, his glasses slip from his shirt and fall through the window onto Hannah's car seat. He doesn't seem to notice and begins walking away. "Goodnight, Hannah."

"Cam!" she shouts, but he doesn't hear her. Or ignores her. Through the tears in her eyes, she picks up Cameron's black-framed glasses. "I... I love you."

* * *

><p><em><span>Featured songs<span>:  
><em>"_Super Bass" by Nicki Minaj  
><em>"_Last Friday Night" by Katy Perry_

_Author's Rant_

_Sadface for Hannah, both in this story and in the competition... _I already miss her presence in the show. I will miss her laughter and her hilarious facial expressions. Damn. On a brighter note,___ all Glee Project characters have finally made appearances in this story! It only took 21 chapters... _

_So go to cameronmitchellmusic and check out his very first video "Let's Stay Together" to get a feel for the glasses-less Cameron =] Hey, maybe he should have sung that for Project GCAMBT. Nah, I stuck with my inspiration song._

_Sheesh... to the nameless reviewer who said, "Why won't you update already?" Compiling thoughts to make sure it fits in the big picture, typing it down, choosing vocab and syntax, checking for grammar and inconsistences - this all takes time, especially when I writing two chapters for a double-post. N_o more double-post rewards from me, because those are too tiring. _And honestly, I thought it would take longer for you guys to hit 500 reviews =] _


	22. Blame It II

Tina is in the middle of covering up the evidence of their usage of school equipment when she's interrupted by a firm hand on her shoulder. When she turns around, she finds her lips crushed against Mike's.

When they break apart, Tina is breathless. "What was that for?"

Mike shakes his head, holding both of her hands in his. "I dunno," he shrugs. "That other guy just failed to get his girl back, which just made me appreciate mine even more."

Tina slips her hands out of his, throws her arms around his neck, and kisses him hard. He grabs her waist and brings her close against him, and they remain in this intimate make-out position for almost a full minute before Tina suddenly breaks away.

"It's just so sad," she whispers forlornly. "So sad that it didn't work out."

"We did our best to help. And you played that piano piece well," Mike smiles. "I hardly had to adjust anything on the sound board."

Footsteps announce the arrival of Sunshine, who looks frantic. "Tina, you have a car, right?"

"I rode here with Mike," Tina answers. "Why, what's wrong?"

"The guy that's taking Marissa on a date? He drives a black Range Rover."

Tina immediately reaches the same conclusion and she drags Mike forward by the hand, following Sunshine. "Wait, what's going on?" Mike yelps.

"Sunny asked me about any dirt on Rachel in case Rachel decides to pull another fast one on her, like sending her to the crack house," Tina explains. "So I told her everything about Jesse St. James."

* * *

><p>It isn't until Cameron flops over on his bed in his empty room that he realizes his glasses are no longer with him. He can't remember where he put them. He took them off to wipe away some errant tears back at McKinley High's auditorium. He hadn't meant to get so emotional, but the fearful anticipation that Marissa wasn't going to forgive him had really gotten to him.<p>

She forgave him... yet he doesn't feel any better. He'd thought that the burden he had on his shoulders was because he wanted to clear the air between them. That was all. He apologized, she forgave him, and they see each other clearly now. But there's still that empty void separating them and Cameron finds that he doesn't want their paths to diverge. He still wants to walk beside her. He still wants to be with her.

He still loves her.

She kissed him. He wants to believe that it was just another thoughtless gesture, a decision made in the heat of the moment—just as inconsequential as the time she'd slapped him last week. But when he kissed her back, she didn't pull away instantly. She lingered against him for just a couple seconds. Just long enough to let him realize, right now, a few hours later after the incident, that he still loves her.

He hadn't been wearing his glasses when he'd kissed her. Just like their first kiss under the summer stars. The first time he found somebody to love... and just now, finding that he still loves that somebody. Maybe this is more than symbolism.

He doesn't need his glasses to see clearly anyways.

* * *

><p>"I feel incredibly obvious," Tina whispers as they take up positions behind some fake greenery. "Besides, who wears sunglasses on a date? Indoors?"<p>

"How else are you going to cover up? Just act casual," Mike advises, tugging the brim of the cap Matheus gave him lower over his face. "Wow, this place is really pricey."

"I'm already in camouflage," Tina laughs softly. It's true; on their drive over, she traded outfits with Sunshine. So while Tina sports Sunshine's bright neon clothing, Sunshine had adopted Tina's dark outfit so that she can spy on the other three people that Marissa and the enemy were with.

Mike grins. "I can hardly stand to look at you, you're so... bright."

"Har har. Where do you think those other three people are going?" Tina scans the menu. "Maybe we could scrape by just getting appetizers. $7 for a basket of onion rings though? That's ridiculous."

"That's what Sunny and Matheus are checking out," Mike informs. "Little people are best for outdoor ninja stealth missions. They'd draw attention in here anyways, they're so small."

"L-O-L, and then there's us: two Chinese people in an Italian restaurant being cheap by buying appetizers. How sad is that?"

Mike peers between fake foliage. Marissa seems to be getting along well with the enemy. She's completely oblivious to the looming danger she's about to get herself entangled in. And the guy himself... he's got moves, Mike has to admit. He obviously knows women well.

Tina kicks Mike under the table. "So much for acting casual," she mutters. "You're being quite the obvious creeper."

Mike takes her advice into consideration and spends the rest of their time slurping up noodles—erm, sphagetti—from the gigantic plate that he and Tina shares. Tina doesn't eat a lot. Because her sunglasses obscure her eyes, she has more opportunity to study at artwork around the walls when in reality, she's eying Marissa's interaction with the enemy. And the enemy is definitely a class-A flirt. Not Jesse St. James, who was so arrogant that only he could compliment Rachel in that special way. This guy is actually very normal, getting Marissa to laugh and getting her used to physical contact. How long has he known her? It can't have been that long. There's no way Marissa could have been juggling Damian, Cameron, and this guy over the past five weeks. The girl's too sweet to be a maneater.

Marissa's meal is short—not a real date, but probably a quick food stop. They must be meeting back up with their other three friends. Tina urges Mike to eat faster (no point in wasting food) then texts Sunshine with their findings.

* * *

><p>Sunshine and Matheus stick to the shadows, trailing the three other people: a dark-skinned girl with a pixie cut, a guy who could be a woman ([s]he <em>does<em> have the chest for it), and another guy with stubble and a mess of longish brown hair underneath a cap with the brim pulled to the right.

Finally, the three reach a small park with a playground structure in the middle. The androgynous person whoops and runs over to the slide, whereupon (s)he squeezes into the small tube and slides down. The guy slouches on one of the platforms while the girl sits on top of the monkey bars. Matheus looks at Sunshine for confirmation, who nods; they split, running to different spying positions. Sunshine crouches behind a nearby stand of shrubs, about twenty feet away from the action.

The guy speaks up, calling to the one still enjoying the slide. "Alex! Stop fooling around and come over here. I want to talk to you about something."

_Great,_ Sunshine thinks._ Alex is a name that could go for both genders: Alexander or Alexandra. Why can't names just stick with masculine and feminine forms?_

Alex squeaks as (s)he picks himself up from the slide exit and lopes over to the guy. "Whaddya want, Nicky?"

Sunshine's about to throw her hands up at confusing gender rules of English names when the guy replies gruffly, "It's Nick."

Alex plops down next to Nick, snatches Nick's cap off his head, and ruffles his messy brown hair. "I'll call you what I want, Nicky. Now what did you want to talk about?"

Nick looks uncomfortable as Alex continues to play with him. "I know Emily's one of your best friends, but she and Bryce have been over for a while now. And what Bryce does with his life shouldn't be affected by Emily's agenda anymore."

Sunshine scribbles down notes on a piece of paper she brought along. It's dark and she can't see what she's writing, but hopefully she'll be able to look at the scribbles later and recall memories. _Alex + Emily. Em + Bryce. Is Br w/ Mar right now? Who's Em?_

Alex's mood immediately darkens. "You want me to lie to her."

"I'm asking you to give Bryce a chance with this girl. She's different. She's not like all the other girls. The other ones who are pretty much copies of Emily. This one's a lot different from Emily, and I think that she'll be good for him. Besides, as long as Emily doesn't ask—"

"But she will," Alex argues unhappily. "She hears everything."

_Em = Br's vengeful ex_

"But hey, Alex, you're her main source of info," the girl speaks up. She's hanging upside down on the monkey bars now. "Everything she talks about, 80% of the time it's something you told her."

_Em + Alex = gossip_

"I like informing my friends!" Alex protests. "Com'on, Miki. I don't hold anything back from you, ever. I tell it like it is." The girl called Miki gives a skeptical noise, and Alex modifies his statement. "Fiiiiine... I might add a bit of kick to it. Drama makes everything more exciting."

Miki's tone of voice is sarcastic. "Really."

"I swear. Just a little bit of spice to add flavor to an otherwise drab story."

Miki sighs and shakes her head, still hanging upside down. "So we're probably going to the tolerant club then. Their music sucks."

_Br = mutual friend. Br = nightclub? Not minors?_

"Oh yes," Alex states. "There ain't no way we be going to the other when I'm around to party."

Nick shrugs. "I don't really care." He hops off the platform. "Here, I'm going to make a call. Play nice." He begins to jog over towards the bushes Sunshine is hiding; Sunshine drops to her stomach and scoots in as close to the base of the shrub as possible.

Nick stops about six feet away from Sunshine, but he's too busy talking on his phone to notice her. Behind her, Miki and Alex are talking again; Sunshine hopes Matheus is picking up that conversation, because all she can hear right now is Nick.

"Hey Blaine," Nick shouts, raising his volume. "Hey. Hey! Where are you?" A pause as Nick listens. Then: "Hey Blaine. Bryce is getting us into _The Nightrose. _...Yeah, I know. Lame music, whatever. Alex is with us, you know how he gets. …Uh-huh. Hey, try convincing your roommate to drive you here. Get him out a bit. …...that's what I'm saying, sometimes Cameron looks like he needs his world shaken up a little. Kid needs to loosen up."

Sunshine scribbles more writing. _Cam = driver, Blaine roomie. Nick, Alex, Blaine = Warblers? Br = Warbler?_

"Then steal his car, I don't care. Just be here within a half hour, or else we're taking off without you. Yeah, Bryan Park. We'll all head over together. ...Ellis says she wants to come? Are you serious?" Nick smacks a hand to his forehead. "There's no way that's going to fly. We could pass as 18 year olds—hell, somebody thought Blaine was 25 once—but Ellis looks ten."

Ellis. The name sounds familiar... Sunshine can't put her finger on it, so she continues to write notes. _Ellis = Warbler? But Warblers = guys. Ellis_

And then it hits her—Ellis was the girl at the carnival. The small one who walked tall and sang big. That was her!

_In awe and trembling, Sunshine approaches the other girl after she's finished singing the impromptu performance. The girl looks like she's had a lot of fun._

"_Hello," Sunshine greets. The other girl looks over in surprise. "I'm Sunshine Corazon, and I just wanted to say that you were amazing."_

_The other girl places a hand on a cocked hip and melodramatically fans herself with her other hand. Confidence is literally exuding out of every pore. "Why thank you," she drawls, then sticks out her hand and replies in a much more comfortable, normal voice, "I'm Ellis. Nice to meet you."_

_Sunshine shakes the offered hand enthusiastically. "Not just your voice, but your personality. It's big. How you pushed those other guys around like they were pawns."_

_Ellis grins. "I have my ways of getting my way. Most of the other guys have learned by now to just give in. I'm in the process of breaking in a new guy though." She rolls her eyes and jerks her head to the left, where a boy with long blonde bangs sits alone on the stage._

_Sunshine's eyes widen in admiration. "Listen, I have a problem with another person. She also has a big personality that smothers everybody else." She suddenly becomes very shy. "So, uh, I was just, um, wondering..."_

_Ellis takes out her cell phone. "Here, give me your number."_

Sunshine scribbles down her realization quickly. _Ellis is small person, big personality. Also knows Warblers well_. She smiles satisfactorily; she's just gained a way into the competition's ranks.

* * *

><p>The door slams open, and Blaine dives into the room and immediately begins stripping out of his uniform. "Cam!" he hisses excitedly. "We gotta go, now!"<p>

Cameron doesn't move, and so he doesn't see the other, slightly-horrified boy standing awkwardly in the open doorway, unsure of whether or not to come in. "Where are you going?" Cameron drawls, addressing Blaine only.

With his pants still wrapped around one leg, Blaine hops over to the door and drags the other boy inside, into Cameron's line of sight. As Cameron sits up and makes himself presentable, Blaine shuts their dorm door. Having cut off their conversation from prying ears, Blaine grins widely. "Downtown. Oh, and by the way, this is my new best bud, Kurt. Kurt, meet my roomie, Cameron."

Cameron shakes hands briefly. From the bottom down, Kurt's style appears similar to Cameron's: extremely tight skinny jeans, red converse sneakers. However, Kurt's upper body makes a bold fashion statement, with a striped button-down shirt peeking out from underneath a maroon T-shirt with sensuous white handprints printed all over it. His hair is gelled and combed over, like Blaine's; the default expression on his face seems to be proud and slightly condescending, but right now it's just ogling at Blaine's carelessness. Cameron feels the need to explain his roommate's open behavior, but then a more urgent matter comes to his mind. Addressing Kurt, he asks, "Have you been downtown before?"

Kurt's voice is higher, with a hint of haughtiness. "Not in this town."

Cameron's eyebrows rise as he turns to Blaine. "Last time you went downtown, Jeff ended up hanging from a street sign by his briefs."

"That's because he insulted Emily, but Emily isn't coming this time." Blaine shivers. "It all happened so fast... I can't even remember how she managed to pitch him bodily onto a fixture three feet taller than she is. Come to think about it, I can't even comprehend how she managed to reach down his-"

Cameron quickly interrupts. "And_ you_ were trying to swim through the sidewalk. Like writhing-on-your-belly swimming."

Blaine shrugs. "Seemed like the fastest method of travel at the time. Anyways, it's almost Halloween, man. Live out loud."

"No, I'm good. You guys have a great Friday night streaking through the park and skinny dipping in the dark and whatever, but I don't feel like gaining illegal access into a nightclub to get plastered and cuffed by the police as an underage delinquent."

Blaine laughs as he slips a shirt (inscribed with _Best Party EVER!_) over his head. The moment he pulls it down, though, he catches a glimpse of the glum expression on Cameron's face. "Man, what happened?"

"I tried. Nothing really changed."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing. I'm just going to wait for her."

Blaine shakes his head as he grabs Kurt's hand and pulls him towards the door. "That's not an answer. Be sure to give me a good one when I get back."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_I wish **CatsGoMoo** would get an account so I could answer questions without dropping too many spoilers; but I will answer some here. I'm also one of those obsessed people who researches everything (heck, I'm writing fanfiction on TGP, how could I not be obsessed?) Nick is actually a Dalton Warbler, a brunette who auditions for a solo along with Jeff and Kurt when Kurt sings "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina." I wasn't planning on including Lindsay's brothers Heath and Connor (hence "they're at college" excuse); I don't know anything about them except they're incredibly athletic, so their inclusion would basically be as OCs. Which I generally try to avoid unless they serve a function. (Hmm, cogs turning in head as new plotline emerges...) Okay, one last spoiler: Lindsay and Damian are the worst communicators in the world, and Lindsay's off doing secret activities while Damian's absolutely clueless - thus there will be plenty of Damian's POV in which he is completely clueless, and not so many Lindsay's POV because she's keeping a big secret. If you guys haven't guessed already._


	23. Blame It III

**_Featured songs:  
><em>**"_Don't Wanna Go Home" by Jason Derulo  
><em>"_Party Rock Anthem" by LMFAO_

* * *

><p>"What are you getting all pretty for?"<p>

Ellis carefully applies purple mascara. "Pre-Halloween night out with the boys."

"You guys are going downtown? Why the hell didn't anybody call me?" Emily is indignant.

"Didn't think about it," Ellis replies bluntly. "Plus it's _The Nightrose _around Halloween time. Nobody will appreciate you there."

"Aww, that's my roomie. Always the thoughtful one," she drawls sarcastically. "But who cares if everybody there ain't playing for my team? Eye candy is still eye candy. And it's almost time for trick-or-treat."

"The car is going to be full of said eye candy," Ellis laughs. "And me."

"Aw, chica," Emily pinches Ellis' cheek while she isn't applying makeup. "Some of those fruitcakes go for adorable." A thought suddenly occurs to Emily. "Wait, Bryce is getting them in, isn't he?"

"Yup."

"Who's his date?" Emily levels Ellis with a piercing stare.

Ellis doesn't flinch; she's had years of experience as Emily's sidekick, though it's only been within the past year that she's begun to establish her own identity. "Are you serious?" she laughs Emily off. "Taking a girl to Carmel's only gay club. Even if he did have a date, she'd walk out on him once they stepped inside."

Emily is appeased, and she laughs along. "Right. What was I thinking? Grrrr, besides, Bryce is none of my business. David is twice the man he is anyways. We're going out tonight," she purrs in satisfaction, though Ellis can hear the undercurrent of insecurity in her voice.

Ellis finishes up her basic touches and checks herself in the mirror. "How do I look?"

"You're not going to try picking up gay guys, are you?" Emily makes a face.

Ellis bites the tip of one finger seductively. "Of course not."

Emily hugs her best friend. "That's my girl. Go get 'em."

* * *

><p>Blaine brings a friend, Kurt, who has a very, very nice car, and at first Ellis is reluctant to take the wheel (since even she acknowledges that she's a terrible driver). However, within the first ten minutes of Kurt driving, it becomes painfully obvious that Kurt's terrible with directions and doesn't know his way around Westerville at all. As Ellis takes the wheel, Blaine explains that Kurt's from the tiny town of Lima, and Ellis nods in understanding.<p>

The drive over to Carmel is wild to say the least. Every time she looks in the rearview mirror, somebody is flirting with someone, regardless of orientation. The levels of testoterone are so high Ellis can literally feel it pressing down over her, so she cracks open the windows slightly. Kurt doesn't look very comfortable, sitting in the middle seat while Flint wrestles with Blaine practically in his lap. Jeff pretty much ignores her and spends the entire ride craning his neck to talk with the other guys in the backseat.

Her phone begins to ring two miles down the highway between Westerville and Carmel. With only ten minutes left till Bryce leaves the park, Ellis is already speeding, but she pulls out her phone anyways and yells at the others to keep their eyes peeled for cops.

"Hello?" she almost screams over the chatter.

"Ellis, this is Sunshine Corazon. I met you like two weeks ago at the carnival, the other—"

"Yeah! I remember you. How's your daily struggle against the overwhelming forces of Rachel Berry?"

"Actually, I've been a bit busy with somebody else's life and I haven't gotten to mine yet. Rachel can wait, this can't. Is Cameron with you?"

"No, he stayed back home. Why?"

Sunshine pauses for a while; but Ellis isn't sure if the guys behind her just drowned out her soft voice, so she turns around and screams, "SHUT UP!"

The guys immediately bring their chatter down, and Ellis listens again. This time, she hears Sunshine speak. "Will you see Bryce?"

_Small world_, Ellis thinks. "Wow, Sunshine, we have a lot of mutual friends. We're going to meet Bryce right now. Why?"

"This is going to sound sketch, but we're trying to protect a fragile friend who is looking to date Bryce when she hasn't wrapped things up with Cameron."

Ellis takes a moment to process this. They can't seriously be asking her to interfere in business that's not hers. "Why...?"

"Here's the sketch part: we're sort of following her. She's sort of unstable and we just want to make sure she doesn't break down. So... could you tell us where Bryce is?"

* * *

><p>The club is hot. So many moving bodies in a tight, crowded space with music that pounds through Sunshine's body even though she hovers off to the side, simply observing. Guys and girls alike gyrate against any other moving body. ...Okay, maybe she's a little intimidated... but there's just so many people taller than she is. She's not that short, but somebody with an actively moving butt could easily plow into her gut or knock her over. A forest full of waving booties. Not something Sunshine wants to experience. What do Americans feed their children to make them so tall?<p>

Matheus, on the other hand, is going wild. He's small but he's attracting quite a crowd with his constantly rolling torso; the front of his shirt has been pulled behind his neck, revealing his toned abs, but his arms are still in the sleeves. He's going wild on a girl in super short shorts and doesn't notice that there's two guys sneaking up behind him. One of them is wearing sunglasses. Sunglasses in a dark club. Maybe he can't see and thinks Matheus is a girl.

Sunshine begins to think that she doesn't know Matheus that well; she'd always thought that he was an energetic but on the quieter side, like her. Kind-hearted and outgoing, but with inhibitions that hold him back from going all out and blowing away the competition, or whomever he's up against.

However, that doesn't seem to be the case... because Matheus doesn't seem to mind being the middle of a two-gender sandwich.

* * *

><p>Emily was right... eye candy is still eye candy. But sometimes the eye candy will grind on you just because you happen to be close by. And Ellis is okay with that.<p>

_Dayo, me say dayo, daylight come and we don't wanna go home.  
>Yeah so we losing control; turn the lights low cause we about to get blown.<br>Let the club shut down; we won't go oh oh oh.  
>Burn it down to the floor oh oh oh.<br>Dayo, me say dayo, daylight come and we don't wanna go home._

A couple feet away, Flint is a beast—shirtless and shoeless and in the middle of yet another orgy full of guys and girls in terrible Halloween makeup. Jeff is breaking out moves with people who are there to actually dance, Bryce's friends included. None of them have had alcohol (at least, Ellis thinks so) but the atmosphere—dark, hot, and heavy—combined with the crowd instinct is enough to drive everybody over the edge. Somehow, Blaine got doused with water—droplets stream off his navy blue shirt and black jeans that sticks tight to his athletic body, leaving Kurt to gawk openly at the show even as he dances shyly.

A flash of red—that's probably Marissa dancing next to Bryce. She _is_ gorgeous and she certainly knows her body well enough to move it in the right ways. Bryce doesn't touch her, but he complements her movements so that it's obvious that they're partners. When she pops to the left, he slides with her; when she hits the floor, he shields her so nobody else accidentally trips over her. She's obviously having a lot of fun—probably not very conducive to Sunshine's objective. Where is she anyways?

Ellis scans the crowd and finds her small Asian friend standing off to the side, looking very lonely and small and underage. She's probably going to be kicked out soon, so Ellis begins to make her way over. "Sunshine!" she yells when she gets near; Sunshine jumps in surprise. "If you sit there like a ten-year old, you're going to be kicked out for sure."

"Won't Bryce's friends...?" Sunshine begins, but Ellis grabs her hand and pulls her out of her chair and onto the floor.

"Just a couple of them," Ellis yells as they enter the mob. "Don't go and kill Bryce's rep by getting yourself kicked out." Somebody bumps into Sunshine, knocking her off course. Ellis pull her in close and gives her a once over. "That's not going to do," she decides finally, reaching behind Sunshine's head and pulling at the hairband holding up Sunshine's hair into a high ponytail. Sunshine's thick black hair falls around, slightly kinked below her ears from being in a ponytail forever. "Don't you ever wear your hair down?" Ellis clucks, fluffing Sunshine's hair out.

"No," Sunshine replies nervously. "It's just more convenient and it keeps it out of my mouth when I'm sing—"

"But we're in a nightclub now, not a karaoke bar. Com'on, aren't you hot in that sweater?" Ellis brushes twigs and leaves off her clothing. "What were you doing, rolling around in a tree?" She grabs the bottom hem of the sweater and pulls up.

Sunshine shrieks. "What are you doing?"

Ellis drops the sweater hem and picks up Sunshine's hand. "You are in need of a serious makeover," she growls, shouldering her purse, which contains Emily's "emergency kit", and pulling the girl behind her towards the bathroom.

* * *

><p><em>In the club, Party Rock, lookin' for ya girl, she on my jock<br>__nonstop when we in the spot. Booty movin' weight like she own the block.  
><em>_Where's the drink? I gots to know. Tight jeans, tattoo, cause I'm rock and roll.  
><em>_Half-black half-white domino; gain the money, out the door._

Marissa hasn't had this much fun in... forever. Halloween is in a week and a half, so the atmosphere is already full of wild partying and people in costume. Plus, they're in a nightclub; it's just a place to dance, and nobody laughs if they catch you busting a bad move or two. Even if it just consists of moving your ass from side to side like Alex does, or up and down, like McKynleigh. a

_Party rock is in the house tonight. Everybody just have a good time  
>And we gonna make you lose your mind. We just wanna see ya... SHAKE THAT.<em>

Everybody freezes.

_Everyday I'm shufflin'._

The dance floor explodes in animalistic movement, dancing with unrestrained instinct. Marissa drops it, brings it back up, and shakes it. She's grateful for the space that Bryce gives her and the freedom to break it down any way she wants, so she bumps to the beat and avoids physical contact. It's just her moving, free of anything holding her back. She forgets about Cameron and the mess of emotions she couldn't untangle when she ran from him; she forgets about her fake-turned-sorta-real relationship with Damian and just how many times he's been there for her. She forgets about her troubles and dances it off until sweat pours from every pore in her body and she feels faint from all her physical exertion, but even then she keeps on dancing until she collapses into Bryce's arms.

It only seems like a second or two, a brief instant in which she closed her eyes, but before Marissa knows it, she's sitting in a chair at the very edge of the dance floor. "Wuh... what..." she gasps, looking around. Bryce grins back at her from a chair across the table and pushes a glass of water towards her.

"Talk about dancing till you drop," he grins as she sips the water.

"Wow," she breathes when the present comes rushing back to her. "Did... did I really just..."

Bryce nods. "You were pretty amazing, right up to the part when you bowled into me unconscious."

"Oh... I'm so sorry—"

"Hey," he winks. "I'm not complaining."

Marissa leans towards Bryce, placing her hand over his. "Thanks... for this night," she says genuinely. "I've never had so much fun... This is the best thing that's happened to me in a long, long time."

Bryce leans in as well. "Same thing here," he replies softly, closing the distance.

At the last second, though, Marissa jerks away. "I'm sorry," she gasps. "I can't. I'm so sorry—"

"No, I'm sorry," Bryce interrupts. "That was my mistake. I shouldn't have come on to you like that." He places a gentle hand over hers. "But seriously, you're the best thing that's happened to me in a while, and I just wanted to let you know."

Marissa shakes her head, but she doesn't remove her hand. "I'm just... I'm not ready. I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"But thank you," Marissa repeats again. "This means a lot to me."

Bryce grins. "Same thing here."

* * *

><p>Matheus has never been this wild in his life. Never in Brazil, never in Lima. He hasn't been sheltered; his parents are totally okay with him staying up late playing video games or surfing the web or heading over to a friend's house, as long as he's back in bed before 1am. But he's never been in this sort of environment before, and he feels like he's an entirely different person here. Or maybe this was him all along, stripped of every inhibition that held him back before. SMALL. Incompetent, unable to accomplish much, short and unattractive. Even though he's worked on his body, there are still people that won't even give him the time of day because he's a foot shorter than any of them.<p>

But not here. There are girls all over him. Hell, there are _guys_ all over him. And he doesn't mind; what matters is that people here, with all restraint and prejudice forgotten, don't care if he's short. They see his body and how he rocks it and they see the confidence he exudes and they want it. It's that simple.

Seconds, minutes, hours later... Matheus has no idea how much time has passed, but for a moment, passage of time slows as a certain girl comes within his field of vision. She's different—her silky black hair shaking loose around her head as she beats it to the music, then settling into smooth waves when she stops to sing along with the lyrics pumping through the air. She's wearing simple clothing—actually, she's only wearing what they wore on their spying mission, black clothes they'd fished out of the back of Mike's car that probably belonged to Tina. Either way, Sunshine is simple yet stunning in a black ruffle tank top that probably would have hugged Tina's body tightly, but fits loosely on Sunshine's. Almost all of her thighs are visible, which makes Matheus freeze. The ruffle tank is just long enough to cover her hips... but is she really wearing any pants underneath?

...

* * *

><p>Tina watches anxiously as Mike shimmies up the drainpipe in an attempt to reach the open bathroom window of <em>The Nightrose<em>'s bathroom. Matheus and Sunshine aren't picking up their phones; it's late at night and Mike needs to go home.

Mike pretty much falls into the bathroom window, and, a second later, a woman screams.

Tina sighs. _This is not going to go over well._

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_"The Glee Project" season finale is just two days away! I'm going to miss the show... but it definitely carried me through this summer without "Glee." As for this fanfiction, it will continue until... I wrap things up. Whenever I do. Nevertheless, because of the season finale, I wanna post something fun for next chapter. Just a little fun. And what better plot device to modify usual behavior than alcohol!_

_Here's to the season finale of the Glee Project!_


	24. Raise Your Glass I

_**Featured songs:**  
><em>_"Black and Gold" by Sam Sparro_

* * *

><p>Herein lie the collective memories of the McKinley High Glee club, concerning their weekend club meetingparty as declared by a certain Rachel Berry, whose dads are auspiciously absent for four days on a business trip. The night starts off somewhat sluggishly...

* * *

><p>"As you all know, Sectionals is only five weeks away," Rachel announces from her perch on the slightly raised stage located in her basement. The stage is maybe six inches off the ground, but it gives her some slight leverage over her fellow Club members sitting on the ground.<p>

"Why don't you have any chairs?" Brittany asks from her seat on the washing machine.

"No sitting on household appliances," Rachel snaps immediately, then does a small double take; not three seconds ago, Rachel could swear Brittany had been sitting on the ground next to Santana. Recomposing herself, she begins, "I'm sure all of you feel the urgency..."

Judging from the blank stares directed at her... this is new news. Rachel wants to throw her hands in the air in exasperation.

"Where's Tina? And Mike?" Rachel directs at Sunshine's group squeezed onto two beanie bags.

Sunshine shrugs casually, but Rachel doesn't miss the small glance she shoots at Marissa. "Relaxing."

* * *

><p><em>22 hours ago<em>

_This is definitely a bad idea._

_If his mother were to see him now, breaking the law to get into a nightclub when he's two years underage... she'd scream at him for shaming the Chang family name or something and then cry for a week straight. But Mike's on a mission for his friends, and he is _going_ to fulfill it. _

_Mike's muscles are screaming at him, but he's dangling from the windowsill fifteen feet above the ground and he doesn't want to look like a wimp in front of his girlfriend, who's watching on the street below. So he hauls himself up and through the open window, catching the bottom of his ribcage on the sharp sill to give his arms a break. The sensation of empty air beneath his feet makes him uneasy, so Mike leans forward to compensate... but then he overcompensates and loses his balance, and his thin shirt catches on the splintered windowsill and tears loudly as he faceplant straight into the tile._

_A female scream sounds from somewhere in front of him, and before he can peel himself off the floor and explain his situation, he is clobbered over the head with a purse. "I'm sorry!" he screams, rolling over onto his back and attempting to ward off the weapon. "Spaaaaare me!"_

_Immediately, the attack ceases. Mike cowers in fear for a bit longer before daring to crack open one eye. The figure looming over him is quite rotund and frankly intimidating, blocking out the light. _

_"Dayum, that shredded shirt looks mighty fine on your bod," the voice purrs sultrily. "I suppose I won't call security on you."_

_A bubble of excited hope rises in the pit of Mike's stomach as he flips onto his stomach and pulls himself to his feet. "Thank you so much, ma'am," he stammers at the large African-American._

_A firm hand suddenly grabs his shoulder and pushes him gently against the wall. "Not so fast, boo," the person giggles, as Mike realizes that the person might not be a woman. "You might not have to pay the cover fee by getting in through the window, but I need a little something-something from you to keep my mouth shut."_

_Mike scans for exits frantically. He'd been down with breaking the law and shaming the Chang family name and all, but kissing a (wo)man was not on his mission brief. But the nature of missions is that something _must_ go wrong, and somebody's got to take one for the team, right?_

_And that's all he gets to think before he's "keeping somebody's mouth shut."_

* * *

><p><em>Having used the fire escape, Tina is waiting patiently outside the women's restroom when Mike comes flying out, his shirtless features defined by the sheen of water, his face a blur of panicked agony.<em>

_"Mike!" she calls, touching his shoulder -_

_"EEEEEEEEEEEEEPPP!" Mike squeals, then recognizes her, grabs her hand, and peels out of the bathroom addition as quickly as possible._

* * *

><p>"They have to be here... this meeting is terribly important in deciding our setlist for Sectionals," Rachel insists. "Mike's one of our best choreographers."<p>

"Trust me on this one," Sunshine smiles saccharinely. "Mike needs a bit of time away from large group activities."

* * *

><p><em>At Tina's house<em>

Tina rubs slow, comforting circles on Mike's back as he clings tightly to her on the loveseat in her room. "Sssshhh, it's alright," she coos.

* * *

><p>Keeping fellow classmates' attention is harder than keeping a room full of kindergarteners in check. If Rachel didn't know better, it would seem that Santana is already slightly inebriated. Rachel is about to raise her voice and gain everybody's attention when Artie, without asking for permission, turns around and begins to wheel away. "I need to go to the restroom," he says by way of explanation, but the damage is already done-the meeting breaks off into individual factions, and Rachel has lost the club's attention. Instead, the new object of attention are the light refreshments set off to the side.<p>

* * *

><p>Apparently, Rachel's idea of background music and party food is Barbara Streisand's <em>Greatest Hits<em> playing quiet over a speaker, and cheese and crackers and a large bowl of fruit punch with freakin' berries floating around. Puck smirks. Ha, nice one.

Puck spikes the punch with a bottle of tequila while Finn orders pizza.

The Glee Club Meeting just became a party.

* * *

><p>Rachel's not sure when her meeting slipped into complete pandemonium.<p>

Maybe it's when the lights suddenly went out. Maybe it's when _Barbara's Greatest Hits_ abruptly transformed into a heart-thumping, techno-heavy beat. Maybe it's when Santana suddenly screams, "PARTY!" and everybody enthusiastically explodes into chaotic movement.

Rachel takes a big swig of Berry Family Fruit Punch to boost her confidence. She has got a handle on this. She will regain control and conduct the meeting.

Damn this punch is good.

* * *

><p>Sam's pretty sure fruit punch isn't supposed to be bitter. He asks Rachel about it once, but she angrily blows him off. "This is the legendary <em>Berry Family <em>Fruit Punch we're talking about!" she almost screeches, waving her plastic cup around. "If the sheer power of its subtle fruity flavor doesn't bring you to your knees weeping in gratitude, then you obviously have no appreciation for fine art!"

Four feet away, Santana drops to her knees and bursts into tears, clinging helplessly to Artie's wheelchair. Artie gives her a baleful fish-eye while sipping from his drink.

That couldn't have been planned, so Sam finishes off the rest of his cup and goes to look for Quinn. It's a party; maybe Quinn will let him get to second base this time.

* * *

><p>How could a freakin' cripple ignore her obvious advances? He didn't even react when she shoved her chest in his face. He just kept chugging away at his wine cooler.<p>

Wait, where did he get alcohol?

Two minutes later, Santana emerges from a wine cabinet brandishing miracle juice.

* * *

><p>Quinn's quarter hits the tabletop straight on its edge and bounces neatly into the shot glass. Matheus groans and Finn grins at her, his gaze lingering on her face a bit longer than necessary. Actually, much longer than necessary, so much that Sam catches on and glances between them suspiciously as they all down their shots.<p>

Sam's going to figure it all out sooner or later. He might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but once the pieces start falling together, they tumble into place quickly. Quinn knows that right now, his brain is whirring, pulling together past observations and stitching them together into the final conclusion: that Quinn is cheating on him with Finn.

Quinn downs her shot despite winning; she does it to numb her feelings. Sam's onto her. She had wanted to keep both, to keep both Finn and Sam close to her - the inspiring male lead and the quarterback of the football team... because she loves both of them. And she doesn't know why she thought she could keep them both, that she could keep everybody happy. But now Sam's on the verge of finding out and Finn's getting drunk and he's going to do something stupid soon and strike the final nail into the coffin. So Quinn's drinking right now so that when Sam approaches her, she'll be too drunk to care. Better now than later, when she's weak and vulnerable. Now, while alcohol makes her strong and belligerent and snappish.

She makes sure to miss the next bounce.

* * *

><p>It is unbearably hot in Rachel's basement. Brittany is quick to shed layers and blindfold random people with her articles of clothing. When she runs out of her own outer clothing, she amuses herself by rearranging other people's clothing—Finn's jacket shoved over Rachel's head as far as it can go, Rachel's bracelet over Hannah's ankle, Hannah's flats in Artie's wheelchair pocket, Artie's glasses hooked into the waistband of Puck's pants as he bends over to pick something up, Puck's wallet crammed into Sam's ginormous mouth, Sam's belt hung around Santana's neck and under her arm like the strap of a messenger bag, and Santana's barette down the front of Marissa's shirt (and patting it to make sure it stays in place). Marissa doesn't have any easily detachable accessories, so Brittany lands a sloppy wet kiss on the girl's lips and flounces away.<p>

* * *

><p>Marissa almost pees herself when Brittany mildly and quite innocently violates her.<p>

* * *

><p>Damian almost pees himself when Brittany winks at him after violating Marissa.<p>

* * *

><p>Behind Damian, Matheus winks back at Brittany. Brittany notices.<p>

* * *

><p>Puck doesn't notice his extra accessory until Artie removes it. The look on Puck's face is priceless.<p>

* * *

><p>After a couple cups of Rachel Berry's amazingly refreshing fruit punch, Matheus feels much more unrestrained. Freer. Bolder. Adventurous. Basically, he flirts with anything that moves.<p>

"Looking good, hot stuff."

Hannah breaks out in a smile.

"Apart from being sexy, what else do you do for a living?"

Rachel gives him a mistrustful, suspicious look.

"Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?"

Brittany leans down and sniffs at bunched up toilet paper Matheus holds up to her. "No," she shakes her head seriously. They then furiously make out for the next three minutes until Brittany breaks off suddenly to chase a point of light reflecting off the disco ball around the room. Matheus weeps for a moment.

"Hey there, babe... why don't you and me go out back and dance to a different song."

Sam only looks at Matheus with an inscrutable expression.

"Are you free tonight or will it cost me?"

"Oh, I'm free alright, but my body is a roller coaster, and you must be this tall in order to ride this ride. Now move on to the next girl lest you wants my boot upside your head," Santana snarls.

As if a simple statement will drive him away. Matheus plants his feet and opens his mouth. "Go ahead; I'm down with knocking boots with you any time."

"Now I know you didn't just say that," Santana snaps. "The only short stack I'm interested in comes from the $5 bread buffet at Breadstix Thursday nights. Now run along before I finish my meal, end you, and use your tiny little baby bones as toothpicks."

Matheus' mouth spills out words—he's not sure if they're the true intention of his heart or just the alcohol speaking. "Why do we keep playing these little games? It's obvious I want you and you want me, so let's just stop pretending and go for the big leagues. My bat's going to take us at least to second base."

Santana grabs the front of his shirt and, with impressive strength, heaves him upward and deposits him on the back of a couch so that they're eye-to-eye. Matheus stares into the depths of her deep brown irises and all he can think is: _Damn, she's hot._ His eyes drop down to her shirt.

Santana places one finger underneath his chin and flicks it upward so that they're making eye contact again. "Listen up, Junior: quit looking at my C-cups and go play with your tea cups, cause I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent and you don't want no piece of this. There's too much here for your fragile little body to handle, so save yourself the trouble " She thumps her chest with both fists and backs away from him, pinning him in place with her hardest, fiercest glare.

As is, Matheus can't move until she disappears from sight. Once she does, though, he slides off the back of the couch into the actual sitting part, colliding with Kurt. Eager to tell of his conclusion, he skips the apology.

"She wants me."

* * *

><p>Brittany giggles as Santana's warm lips suck up the vodka spilling out of the cavity of her belly button. Then a warm tongue travels its way up to her diaphragm, licking up the salt laid there. Brittany bursts into laughter as the sheen of saliva left on her warm skin cools in the air.<p>

* * *

><p>Sam doesn't want to believe it, but he's noticed the shared looks over the past few days, the unsaid things between Finn and Quinn that speaks volumes to everybody else... only Sam can't decipher it.<p>

Now, though, with alcohol sloshing around in his veins, Sam finds it somewhat easier to draw connections between unrelated points. Like everything that's happened over the past couple days or so, and now the scene right in front of him, across the room: Finn sitting down next to Quinn and whispering into her ear, and Quinn smiles softly and laughs and doesn't flinch or move away from the intimate contact.

A girlish laugh directly beneath him draws his attention momentarily, and Sam looks down just in time to see Santana lick the last traces of salt off Brittany's stomach. The Latina notices Sam watching and waggles her eyebrows suggestively, causing Sam to blush and turn away. He has a girlfriend. He's already committed. He's got a girl. A girl who currently is cheating with her ex.

Santana laughs, and Sam makes his decision.

* * *

><p>Though Kurt's surrounded by his Glee friends who are doing what they do best—belting and harmonizing along with music—he can't stop thinking about last night. The alcohol in his system ferments his brain and now all he can really remember of Blaine is his tight, sweaty body convulsing in the middle of a hundred throbbing bodies, and Kurt can see the magnificent torso writhing and twisting and moving and Kurt wants to move right along in the same rhythm, the same deep, steady bass that thrums through his feet and into his very core like a big heartbeat joining Kurt and Blaine into the same moving mass.<p>

This place is not the same. Without Blaine, this party is dull.

Mercedes dashes past, squeeing as Rachel chases and flings... glitter?... at her.

"I'm gonna get you! Ima get you!" Rachel shrieks playfully.

"Hell to the no you aren't," Mercedes giggle-snorts.

"Black and gold, guuuurl!" Rachel sings, then joins along with the song Artie's blasting over the speakers.

_If you're not really here, t__hen I don't want to be either._  
><em>I wanna be next to you...<em>  
><em>Black and gold, black and gold, black and gold.<em>

With the last repetition, Rachel swings at Mercedes' retreating back with her bottle of golden glitter. Kurt catches the brunt of Rachel's terrible aim.

* * *

><p>Matheus is six feet tall. The only problem is, he's been hacked off at the knees... and that's why he's only 4'9" now. It also explains why he keeps falling over: little knobs for leg endings don't particularly provide balance. Especially when the ground keep tilting dangerously to the left, throwing him against the nearest solid object.<p>

* * *

><p>Mercedes grabs a pillow and whirls around, swinging her weapon as fast as she can to smash it into Rachel's face. She misses; instead, she hits the hand holding the bottle of glitter, spraying shiny, tiny little gold stars across half the basement room. Sam gets a face full of it, blinking in shock as if he'd just been hit by a golden slushie. He shields Puck and Hannah from most of the blast, who are rapping empty threats at each other.<p>

"NO!" Rachel screams in agony, dropping to the ground instantly in a pitiful attempt to gather her arsenal of glitter.

* * *

><p>An ear-splitting shriek of pure misery rends the air right underneath Sam and shocks him out of his stunned misery. Emitting a manly squeal of his own, he attempts to jump into the arms of the nearest person. Apparently, Matheus attempted to do the same thing, which is why Sam finds himself in a tangle of limbs on the floor, rolling around awkwardly in star-glitter.<p>

But then his eyes lock with Matheus' deep brown ones and an explosion of memory sends him reeling. He's being pulled in, away from present events, away from the current figures of Quinn and Santana, and he can't stop because Matheus' eyes are so different from any girl yet so familiar. Sam's body begins to move of its own accord, completely disconnected from his brain, and he can't help but close his own eyes and lean forward even as his mind screams at him to stop, that McKinley High is _not_ California. But he can't stop because it just feels—

The back of somebody's calves hit Sam's broad back. Within a second, a butt is wedged roughly between Matheus and Sam, effectively separating the two. Cold Berry Family Fruit Punch also splashes out of a cup, all over Sam's shirt. "M'sorry," Marissa apologizes, her words slurred. "I din see ya on the gruun."

"S'okay," Sam instinctively mumbles back, adopting slurred speech. Marissa looks slightly comforted at this up until Sam says, "I'll jus' take muh shirt off. Offfffffffffffffffff." And with that, he tries to grab his shirt. Instead, his hands pinch Marissa's torso, which prompts her to yelp and furiously dump the rest of her drink on his face.

"I'm not that drunk," Marissa growls, pushing off Matheus and tottering clumsily away. "Get it from Santana."

* * *

><p>The minute Marissa turns around, Santana locks lips with her. She's frozen against the Latina, who explores her hungrily and lifts one hand to place it lightly on Marissa's jackhammering heart—<p>

Santana gasps and pushes Marissa away roughly, stumbling back. "My $*# sick &*!% with a freakin' #($^& $#%$*!&. ...Bitches," Santana gasps. "You're... you're not... Puckerman." Santana glances at her hand, then at Marissa's chest. "The hell? Are you hiding a baby boob in there? Damn third appendage poked my hand "

Marissa peeks down her shirt at the offending object. "Oh yeah," she says carelessly, pulling out the hair accessory Brittany gave her and tossing it to Santana. "I think this is yours."

* * *

><p>Matheus runs whooping around the room, waving his shirt above his head. Within seconds, Brittany drags Santana into chasing him, and soon at least six clueless teenagers are running in circles in Rachel's basement.<p>

* * *

><p>Damian doesn't even flinch when Brittany pounces on him on her 24th pass. Sitting in his lap innocently, she states, "Let's play a game."<p>

"No." This experience feels vaguely familiar... except this time, there's less clothes involved. Brittany's pretty much down to a pink bra and short black pants. It's so hot in Rachel's basement that Damian's stripped down to a black tank top. There's more skin contact, more heat caught between them, and they're both sweaty from dancing and belting random songs and just the humidity trapped in the entire room. Despite all this... Damian can't really bring himself to care; with his superficial inhibitions stripped away, Damian isn't afraid of physical touch. He just drinks a bit more.

"I really like you," Brittany murmurs.

"Listen," Damian says flatly. "You're a sweet girl and have a amazing body, but I don't love you. We're friends, that's all."

Brittany takes this in stride, and, after a long moment's thoughtful deliberation, she comes up with a solution. "I wanna play Spin the Bottle."

"Please get off me."

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"With a cherry on top? Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

Brittany almost leaps off him, eager for the cherry, when she remembers her true mission and centers herself over Damian's lap again. Damian sighs inwardly in frustration. "Spin the Bottle," she states firmly

"We can't play Spin the Bottle without a bottle," Damian sighs. He feels detached from the situation. Which is probably why he isn't freaking out.

"We don't need a bottle," Brittany announces. "We're friends, now, right? That means—"

"Look!" Damian shouts suddenly, pointing randomly behind them. "A bottle!"

Brittany instantly lunges in that direction, flopping gracefully onto the floor amongst the glitter.

Damian pinches the bridge of his nose, thankful that he's averted another close encounter with—

"LET'S PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE!" Brittany shrieks, holding an empty bottle of tequila above her head.

Damian facepalms.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Adding a bunch of ":D" after phrases__ like "I f*cking hate you, update NOW" and "Update, bitch" __does not soften the words at all. S__eriously, there are much better ways to convey intensity of request. I honestly don't have as much time now as I did during the summer to write. **Updates will be weekly at best.** Sorry, but such is the life of a college student._

_I tried to include a POV from most everybody in the Glee club... at the sacrifice of plot. But you'll see the point of all these interactions in the next chapter, so stay tuned!_


	25. Raise Your Glass II

**_Featured songs_**_**:**  
>"Like a G6" by Far East Movement<em>

* * *

><p>Sunshine Corazon's origins in the Philippines are a small farm on the outskirts of a small town in the middle of nowhere; as such, she can be content with the smallest of things and finds joy in simple matters.<p>

This traditional American drinking game is rather simple, but the following consequences are so mind-blowing that Sunshine can't comprehend them. And that's saying something, because, as a wallflower in the Glee club, Sunshine is acutely aware of the relational tensions running through the club. Anyone can see that, despite Rachel and Finn's friendly separation, Rachel still obsesses over Finn while Finn obliviously believes that they're just good friends. Quinn seems to be getting bored and might be doing something with Finn; Sunshine can't tell, except that Finn gets friendly with Quinn and Quinn doesn't rebuff him. Sam's suspicious, but he's still rather innocent and doesn't think that Quinn would really cheat on him.

In other circles, since becoming drunk, Puck, Matheus, and Artie shamelessly hit on anybody who will listen to them. Puck's eyebrows dance at Rachel, who doesn't notice; Artie makes it quite obvious that he is staring down Brittany's shirt as she leans over to whisper in Santana's ear; and Matheus…

Matheus is staring at her with a strange expression on his face.

Sunshine shoves intruding thoughts out of her mind, which is quite easy to do since she's inebriated. Matheus is her best friend. He knows her best and she knows him best, and she knows that he doesn't. The end.

Marissa sits quietly next to Hannah—who in contrast is the loudest person in the room, exploding in booming laughter and egging encouragement every time the bottle settles on someone. With that distraction, Marissa's almost invisible. She's also incredibly spaced out, probably lost in her own little world as she gazes blankly at the flickering disco ball above them. Whom is she thinking about? Cameron? Bryce? Damian? Despite the fiery rumors that forced the end of their pseudo-relationship, they've remained good friends to the public, hanging out in the same group and talking openly. There's no much spicy gossip to their interaction, so the school's attention has moved on.

But it'll probably shift back to Damian soon, because, as of forty minutes ago, Brittany wants to know what sex sounds like in Irish.

And Santana is being a nosy bitch again as usual—keeping tabs on Sam, Quinn, Finn, Puck, Matheus, Brittany, and Damian. And for some reason, Marissa.

So, with such strong feelings tangling the Gleeks into awkward knots, why are they all consenting to participate in such an intimate game as Spin the Bottle?

"Go for it, girl!" Hannah whoops as Mercedes' spin lands on Sam. She looks uncertainly at the blond hunk, whose gaze is trained on Quinn. There's a small lull as Mercedes crawls forward; but when Sam knows he's caught Quinn's full attention, he quickly closes the gap and kisses Mercedes deep, one hand slipping onto her shoulder and inching around to the back of her head, lacing his fingers through her hair. When Mercedes wraps her arms around Sam's neck and responds with equal passion, the room erupts into surprised cheers—and amidst the astonishment as this recent "development" sits Quinn, a slightly shellshocked expression on her face melting into passive unresponsiveness.

Kurt goes next, holding hands with a stunned Mercedes and giggling as he sends the bottle into motion. Artie wheels himself over to the left slightly as the bottle slows down, but it barely inches past him and points at Brittany. Right before it slows to a halt, however, Brittany launches herself onto her belly and expulses air forcefully from her cheeks to keep the bottle moving… onto Puck.

"The hell!" Puck screams as the club explodes into violent hilarity. "That's—"

"I'm only taking lady kisses from San right now," Brittany defends.

"Fuck this shit," Puck snarls, grabbing Brittany roughly by the shoulder. "If you think—"

On Puck's other side, Santana plants a firm hand on Puck's back and shoves him forward. He loses his balance, releases Brittany, and tumbles into the middle of the circle. "Com'on, Puckasaurus," she snarks. "I thought P-Rexes were omnivores. Go ahead, eat up."

"Puckasaurus chooses his meals," Puck insists.

Brittany states innocently, "Straight guys play Gay Chicken all the time."

Santana adds helpfully, "If there's anybody in this room who'll take your libido and gobble it right up, it's Porcelain right now."

* * *

><p>Kurt raises his hands apologetically as the heated conversation on the other side of the circle draws to a quieter close. "It's alright; I'll understand if—"<p>

But Puck is already walking across the circle. "Shut up," he growls, draining his plastic cup and dropping in front of Kurt. He's so close that Kurt can smell Puck's cologne and the musky scent of perspiration underneath, but he doesn't want to believe it. There's been way too many times that Puck has thrown him into the dumpster, and there's no way that the womanizer of the school is going to switch so sudd—

And then all thought flees Kurt's mind as Puck bowls into him, their lips locked. Puck's momentum knocks Kurt back onto his elbows and he gasps in shock, inhaling Puck —sweat and musk and body and the strong bitter taste of vodka as the football player bears down on him, planting huge arms on either side of his body and caging him in. It's forced and rough… yet somehow genuine, for all the brute ferocity that Puck trundled around going into this. Kurt closes his eyes and his brain falls out of the initial buzz of pleasure, allowing an onslaught of sensory information to assault him—Hannah hooting loudly, the sensation of Puck's body heat settling over him—but the heavy scent of Puck inundating him is what Kurt's going to remember for a long while.

* * *

><p>As soon as Puck goes for Kurt, Brittany skips protocol and attacks Damian gleefully.<p>

Brittany knows boys. She also knows girls, but boys are easier. Since Damian is not a girl, he is probably a boy. She doesn't know, since he didn't act right last time. This is the last time Brittany's going to check—and if he doesn't work right, then Damian is probably a leprechaun.

She really hopes he's a boy, because Damian's really cute. And because sexing up a leprechaun would be really gross.

She goes for all the instant turn-on points: a leg right up in his crotch as she pushes him into the nearest vertical surface, a hand up into his shirt and pulling it off his stomach, her hair down as she kisses him and runs her fingers through his messy hair.

He groans instantly, his entire body stiffening—and Brittany almost gives up, almost bounces off from him in tears, because she's spent the past couple weeks seducing Irish aliens.

…And then he relaxes.

So Brittany enjoys the kiss for a bit longer—she knows he's enjoying it, because he doesn't recoil or push away or headbutt her like he did last time—and then she breaks the kiss off suddenly. He acts like a boy, shocked at the sudden deprivation, and warmth pools in Brittany's stomach. Damian _is_ a real boy. The fact fills her with joy as she smiles happily, resuming her place in between Artie and Santana and Puck. Damian stares at her dumbly, his eyes never leaving her …

He's hooked.

* * *

><p>In the haze of alcohol, everything is funny to Hannah. She's pretty sure her face is the same color as her hair, she's laughing and whooping so much. Everybody's her friends, so she encourages and uplifts them all as much as possible. When Puck kisses Kurt? Hot! When Marissa plants a soft one on Santana? Whoo! When Sam and Mercedes make out in full view of Quinn? Uh, cool! When Brittany jumps Damian's bones? Ai yai yai! When Rachel sits in Artie's lap and kisses him chastely on the cheek? USE TONGUE. When Matheus kisses Sunshine with the fire of ten thousand suns? Ow ow!<p>

Nevermind that Santana gets even bitchier after Marissa, or that Damian still looks like he's been hit by a bus and can't breathe five turns later, or that Quinn looks a little depressed, or Artie looks like he needs more affection, or that Sunshine doesn't return Matheus' fire whatsoever, and it's Matheus that breaks it off, looking a little stung. Hannah's sure that all their reactions are little things that she can cheer up with a few heartening words, so she inserts little funny comments and tries to keep everybody's spirits up.

But nothing can brighten the atmosphere when Finn swaggers forward and crashes over Quinn.

She doesn't resist.

Dead silence.

* * *

><p>Of all the stupid, idiotic ways to out their affair, Finn chooses this path.<p>

Quinn's instantly reaction is to pull away, to keep playing the game where she spends quiet, heated moments with Finn and is with Sam the quarterback in front of everybody else. But at the same time, she's tired of hiding. She's tired of pretending. She's tired of being the one pushing the game along, because _everybody _else (at least in the Glee club) already knows, and they're whispering about it behind her back. She's tired of it all, and so when Finn kisses her with the heat of their secret moments, but in full view of the entire Glee club, she doesn't pull away.

She doesn't return, but her passivity alone is enough to confirm Sam's suspicions. She didn't protest when he kissed Mercedes, which was ample proof enough... this is just the final nail in the coffin.

Sam and Quinn are over.

* * *

><p>All of Rachel's hopes are buried under flaming rubble from the sky the moment Finn kisses Quinn. Never has Finn kissed Rachel herself like that before. Sure, he might be drunk and not thinking straight. But maybe he's thinking perfectly straight. Maybe the alcohol has cleared away his inhibitions and he's doing exactly what his heart tells him to do.<p>

Mercedes' earlier words echo in her mind. ...Rachel Berry House Party Trainwreck Extravaganza indeed.

Rachel empties her glass.

Plastic cup.

Whatever.

* * *

><p>The party is on the verge of falling apart after Sam storms out; Santana follows him. People look at each other awkwardly, unsure of what to do and avoiding Finn's gaze, who honestly looks like he has no idea why Quinn is avoiding him.<p>

Artie wheels over to the sound system; it's time to get serious. Volume as loud as possible, every single light out except for the disco ball. Nothing but audio assault, bass pounding through the floor. As expected, Brittany is the first one to enter the floor, and she pulls Rachel, then Marissa, then Quinn and Mercedes up into one moving clique of girls.

_Popping bottles in the ice like a blizzard; when we drink. we do it right, gettin' slizzard.  
>Sippin' sizzurp in my ride, like Three 6; now I'm feeling so fly like a G6.<em>

That's the last clear memory anybody has.

* * *

><p>It feels like somebody's trying to crack Rachel's head open with a hammer. Gingerly, she raises her head and surveys the dark room. It's dead silent; there's light seeping in through the basement's single window, but the blackout curtains do their job of blocking out light well—just enough for Rachel to get her bearings.<p>

Most of the Glee club is passed out in various places around the room. Sam and Santana apparently did not return last night. It hurts to think, but Rachel steels herself and tries to pull memories out of the painful black hole that is her mind currently. Some random stuff comes out—Puck giving Artie a lap dance, Mercedes popping a bottle cork into Finn's face... Sunshine, Hannah, and Marissa left at some point, escorted by Damian and insisting that they'd walk back home and avoid the police by walking through backyards. Between swimming across the local pond and following Marissa's secret wormhole located under the public park's merry-go-round, Sunshine was fairly sure they'd get home safely, and so Rachel had given them her blessing and sent them off.

Rachel's eyes pass over Mercedes, Kurt, Puck, and Finn crammed like sardines on the two-person couch; Puck's head is tucked into Kurt's shoulder, Kurt is sitting in Mercedes' lap, and Finn's gangly limbs are sprawled haphazardly across everybody. Brittany sleeps in Artie's wheelchair, Matheus is curled up in the front-loading dryer, and Artie's curled up on top of the washing machine.

One more person unaccounted for... Rachel's eyes sweep the room again, looking for Quinn.

Her inquiry is satisfied when, underneath Rachel, Quinn stirs, pulls Rachel's head down and back against her chest, and settles into sleep once again.

Rachel lies pressed against Quinn's soft skin, heart pounding, completely out of her depth and unsure of what to do. This is Quinn, the ice queen, her competitor, the one who stole Finn away from her... but in the soft morning light, with nothing but the pain of a terrible hangover—a bit of soft skin, the rise and fall of a breathing chest, the comfort of an arm wrapped around her... just a little love is what Rachel has been longing for ever since she separated from Finn. Just a little. The love that Finn obviously held back from her even when they were together.

Quinn moves again, unconsciously nuzzling the top of Rachel's head and murmuring something contentedly. Rachel relaxes into the other girl's touch, curling into Quinn's embrace. She can't remember what lead up to this sleeping position on the floor, but it happened, and currently, Rachel is accepting of these circumstances. When Quinn wakes up, she can decide what she'll do.

Rachel drifts off to sleep again, breathing in the tender scent of Quinn's perfume. It never passes her mind that somebody else might wake up before Quinn.

* * *

><p>The morning sun streams through the hotel room windows, blinding Sam the moment he opens his eyes. This sensory overload occupies his mind for a couple seconds, but the realization that another heavy body lies on top of his soon comes to the forefront.<p>

Sam glances down into Santana's peaceful face pressed against his bare chest.

_I... Did I..._

Quinn's anguished face rises out of the depths of his memory. Sam angrily shoves it down, but then an even more frightening face jumps up: Matheus' familiar eyes, not five inches away, staring him down... and Sam'r robotic movement as he leans forward and—

_No._ Sam shuts that thought down, fixing his gaze on Santana and Santana only. _I did._

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_The plot points showed up again! I think I covered everything I wanted to cover... Sam/Quinn, Finn/Quinn, Finn/Rachel, Rachel/Quinn, Sam/Santana, Matheus/Sunshine, Brittany/Damian. Sorry, all you Damian/Lindsay people, but one of my primary goals when first starting this story was that I wanted to integrate TGP and Glee characters. But I swear, there's going to be plenty of Damsay-driven storylines coming up (in the future), as soon as I get around to writing them, so hang in there!_


	26. Add & Subtract

_A/N: The update is the previous chapter, "Raise Your Glass II"! This chapter has been slightly modified for continuity as well, so read through both._

_BTW, I lied about studying... I had to get the rest of the House Party down before I lost it! Anyways, last chapter was an all-time low in terms of reviews. I was rather disappointed. In fact, I've been waiting the past few days for just two more reviews, but the number has stubbornly remained at 798. Well, I suppose this chapter is an advance reward... so please drop a line, thanks!_

* * *

><p>"How was your weekend?" Mercedes chirps as she sidles up next to Tina the next Monday. "You totally missed the Rachel Berry Pre-Halloween House Party Trainwreck Extravaganza on Saturday night, what's up with that?"<p>

"Ugh," Tina groans. "Tell me about the Berry party first. From your tone, it sounds like you guys actually had fun."

A sly grin spreads its way across the black girl's face. "Brittany wanted to play Spin the Bottle. Best. Idea. Ever."

"Juicy pairings galore?" Tina asks excitedly.

"Oh yes. Hell yes. Puck and Kurt."

Tina gasps. "No way."

Mercedes' eyes light up gleefully. "That's not even half of it. Get this: Rachel and Quinn."

Tina stops in her tracks. "You're kidding me. That's crack."

"No, I'm dead serious," Mercedes squeals, delighted at Tina's reaction. "I swear. We were all pretty smashed at that point, but I made myself remember - Rachel and Quinn were making out in the corner."

Tina leans against a locker. "No. That's not possible. They hate each other. Oh god, that's so wrong!"

"It's true," Mercedes repeats mercilessly.

Quinn saunters by, an icy drink held casually in her hand despite the chill of autumn weather outside. "What's true?" she says almost sweetly, but her eyes are just as cold as the blue liquid that sloshes around in the gigantic cup.

Mercedes and Tina eye Quinn skeptically, but then the blonde cheerleader leans in close. "I swear, if you tell anybody - "

Mercedes' face softens. "Girl, my best friend is gay. I'm not going to out - "

Quinn suddenly tosses the slushie between the two gossipers' feet, speckling icy syrup across their shins. Tina squeals in surprise; Mercedes glares at Quinn, affronted, but she quails as Quinn hisses, "It didn't happen. I swear I will make your lives a living hell if I hear even an echo of what you think happened Saturday night." And with a whirl of red and white, Quinn's gone.

Stunned, the two girls remain in silence for a minute. Finally, Tina turns to Mercedes. "What now?" she queries.

Mercedes shakes her head. "Nothing. Forget about it." She turns away abruptly and walks off, but Tina doesn't miss the moisture in her eyes.

* * *

><p>Emily twirls a piece of her hair as she walks two blocks from St. Mary's School for Girls to the quaint little coffee shop located halfway between St. Mary's and Dalton Academy. St. Mary's enforces a very strict dress code, but the dress code only applies on school grounds; Emily can spruce it up all she wants once off campus, so she ditched the sweater vest, unbuttoned the white dress shirt, loosened the school tie, pulled out the jewelry, released her hair, revealed more thigh, and pulled up her socks. The chill of autumn seeps into her skin, but Emily's willing to sacrifice function for form when it comes to clothing.<p>

She winks at a guy on a bicycle as she crosses the street. He gawks at her all the way until he hits the sidewalk curb and goes flying. She almost considers running back to help him, except she likes being early to her dates. But still, the guy is pretty cute, with cropped sandy hair and sharp features. She could probably take him easily. She could probably own him within a couple days. She could cuddle him, kiss him, tease him, play with him, shove him around, pull his strings and push his buttons and manipulate him until he needs her desperately and she's standing over him with his life held in the palm of her hand.

And then? And then what?

A car beeps at her. She's been standing in the crosswalk staring at him in contemplation, except the lights have turned green and now she's holding up traffic. The bicyclist notices her watching and shoots her a thumbs up; she smiles back uncertainly and runs the rest of the way across the street.

Why would she want a stranger off the street anyways? She's got David—a sweet boy with a voice that can sing and a natural fluidity to his movements and behavior. And he's twice as black as Bryce is.

Everything always comes back to Bryce. Emily curses herself and quickens her pace; at this rate, she's not going to make it before—

"You're late!" Alex screams triumphantly as Emily enters the coffee shop. David smiles naturally as Emily hurriedly sits down, leaning in for a kiss first. Emily gives it willingly.

"You're just early," she smirks, looking at her watch. Did she really stand in that crosswalk for three minutes? "What, did you leave Dalton fifteen minutes ahead of time?"

Alex begins to hotly deny the supposition, but David nods in amusement. "I just wanted to pay for your order," he smiles, pushing a caramel macchiato with skim milk across the table towards her. She smiles graciously... but Bryce would have known that Emily's perfectly comfortable with 2% milk.

The skim milk doesn't neutralize the taste of espresso, and it leaves a bitter taste in Emily's mouth.

* * *

><p>During lunch, Sunshine, Matheus, Tina, and Mike compare notes while Damian and Hannah listen in. The weather has chilled enough that it's impossible to eat outside now; frost covers the ground in the morning and lingers in cold corners, so now their group of friends eats lunch under one of the stairwells. The location is also for privacy, since they're discussing Code Red.<p>

"I can't believe you guys went on a spying mission last weekend and didn't tell me," Hannah grumps.

"You were keeping Cameron occupied," Matheus reminds. "That's pretty important."

"I just dropped him off at the school. You could have called me or something."

"Marissa probably would have recognized you right away," Damian consoles. "You've been her friend since junior high? The minute you giggle-snorted, she'd be onto you."

"Anyways, back to business," Sunshine announces, drawing everybody's attention to the present task. "The suspect's name is Bryce. He drove the Range Rover that picked Marissa up, so he was probably the one who called Marissa late Saturday afternoon."

Matheus speaks up. "When she answered the call, it sounded like she didn't know who was on the other end. So maybe she just met him recently, or she didn't have his phone number in her address book."

"When we lost Marissa in the mall while shopping for mashup outfits," Sunshine adds, nodding at Tina, "I found Marissa in a Gap store talking to a guy. She gave him her phone number. Then, when we snuck into the club Saturday night, I saw him again, dancing with Marissa. However, she spent the entire time dancing on her own, and Bryce just shadowed her and kept people off her."

"Same thing with dinner," Tina adds. "He didn't get all romantic—he just kept conversation going and complimented her the entire time."

"You didn't notice though?" Mike interjects. "He was patient, but he was putting the moves on her. He looked her in the eye; he touched her arm and then her shoulder and then brushed hair out of her face. He knows women."

"But she didn't kiss him," Matheus counters. "I saw him go for her once and she pulled back. That's pretty important—she hasn't fallen for him yet. So we need to execute Code Red within the next week or so, before Bryce gets back to her."

"Alright," Sunshine directs, drawing the focus of attention back to herself. "Possible outsiders to recruit to Project GCAMBT. Matheus and I observed some of their friends in the park, and I know I gathered some useful intel." She picks up her notecard full of scribbles. "Let's see... um... the three people we spied on were Alex... Nick... and..."

"McKynleigh. Like our school name," Matheus supplies helpfully. "She's a—"

"Wait up, Mat," Tina cuts him off. "Let Sunny finish her stuff first."

"McKynleigh?" Damian echoes. "Wait - short hair, half-black girl?"

Tina and Sunshine glare at him, but Matheus nods affirmation. "What, you know her?"

"Ahem," Sunshine interrupts loudly. "If you do know her, maybe you can be the one to inform her on details. But we've got to get to those details first. The most important thing I wanted to talk about was that Bryce has a vengeful ex called Emily—and I happened to make friends with Emily's roommate, Ellis. In fact, she gave me a makeover while we were at the nightclub; she said I looked underage. While we were in the bathroom, I noticed the name Emily on the makeup kit Ellis pulled out and asked about it, and she gave me a couple details—they were roommates, she was Bryce's ex, she still hangs around because she loves club dancing, but not so much at _The Nightrose_—that's the one we were at—"

"—where all the 'happy' people in a fifty-mile radius go for a wild night," Mike contributes.

Tina's brow wrinkles in confusion. "I don't remember giving you that hickey," she wonders, pointing to a large red point on the back of Mike's neck. Mike flushes red and covers up the area with a hand.

"Anyways," Sunshine continues, "Emily is cycling through boyfriends now while Bryce cycles through girlfriends, but Emily still wants Bryce. That's why Ellis convinced Emily not to go clubbing; she's afraid Emily would have another emotional breakdown if she saw Bryce with another girl. Ellis also said that Marissa isn't Bryce's usual type and that she might last longer, as long as Emily doesn't interfere. Of course this means that we will definitely have to inform Emily about this. Probably through Ellis."

"I heard from McKynleigh that Alex is Emily's main source of gossip intelligence," Matheus supplies. "Alex is also a Warbler and acts as their version of Mercedes; an underappreciated but incredibly powerful voice that's only used to pack powerful punches at the end of songs. Alex also wants to tell Emily about Marissa, but Nick convinced him not to; however, when Nick went to take a call, McKynleigh told Alex to do whatever he feels in his heart is right. She didn't seem to like Marissa for some reason, though; I could hear it in her voice."

"So McKynleigh and Alex would also be good people to get involved," Sunshine notes, writing on her forearm. "Ellis, Emily, Alex, and Miki. Who else?"

Damian speaks for the first time since their discussion started. "What about Marissa?" he asks plaintively.

"She's the target!" Sunshine exclaims. "It would completely defeat the purpose if we told her we were trying to—"

"No, not that. She's... fragile," he says slowly. "Even though she pretty much dumped Cameron, she's still broken about him. If she's gone to Bryce for support and then we split them up, it'll just damage her even more."

"Rebound relationships in general are a bad idea," Sunshine argues, repeating Hannah's previous arguments. Damian notices that Hannah has hardly participated in the discussion despite orchestrating the execution of Project GCAMBT last Friday. He watches her a bit more closely. "If this Bryce guy goes through girlfriends like none other, he's looking for a perfect girl that probably doesn't exist. And here Marissa comes, with all her disappointments and expectations from Cameron and maybe a little from you, Damian... no offense..."

Damian is startled as Sunshine calls his name, but he gives a little grin easily. "None taken."

"... so Marissa pushes all of that junk on Bryce," Matheus picks up on Sunshines's train of thought. "He's going to cop out at some point, whether it be next week or next year. It'll be less painful if she breaks up sooner rather than later, though."

Hannah detects Damian's scrutiny of her and inserts the first enlightening analogy that comes to her head. "It's... it's like waxing your legs—you can either tear it off quickly or peel it off slowly. Except I don't recommend peeling it off slowly, because then you feel every single hair getting ripped out as opposed to all at once."

Sunshine and Tina glance at each other. "You're talking to Asian girls. We don't have visible leg hair."

Mike pulls up the sleeve of his jeans. "Neither do I."

* * *

><p>Kurt walks around the halls of McKinley High in a daze. After the best weekend of his life—clubbing with his crush Blaine on Friday, then decorating Rachel's basement, drinking himself under the table with Mercedes, and making out with Puck on Saturday—it's almost a disappointment to fall back into the regular swing of things. Homework, classes, and a school full of uncaring people with uncaring eyes that stare right through him when—<p>

Hands grab his shoulders roughly and drag him around, literally throwing him across the hall into a set of lockers. Kurt crumbles to the ground as the impact, a look of pure hurt and shock evident on his face as he stares up into Karofsky's leering, satisfied face.

_Refuse to be the victim_, Blaine's voice echoes. _Prejudice is just ignorance, and you have a chance to educate them._

Kurt picks himself off the ground and storms after Karofsky. "What is your problem?" he screeches, shoving open the locker room door. The place is empty; good thing.

Karofsky looks slightly intimidated, unsure of what to do with the victim suddenly fighting back. "My problem? Other than the fact you're in here trying to get a peek at my junk?" he sneers, shoving stuff from his backpack into a locker.

"Sorry, ham hock, but you're not my type," Kurt snarls.

Karofsky's face twists, but Kurt's too steamed to read into the expression. "That right, Hummel?"

"Yeah. I don't go for incompetent chubs who can only shove other people down and crush their lives just to make themselves feel like they have some authority."

Karofsky advances on Kurt, fist raised. "Don't push me, lady boy," he growls.

It takes almost everything Kurt has not to flinch away, but he eyes the fist warily. "What, you're going to hit me? Go ahead."

Karofsky gets in Kurt's face, slamming the locker shut so that the metallic explosion rings in both their ears. "I said don't push me!" he screams, blood vessels standing in his neck.

"Knock me down, but I'm going to get right back up," Kurt continues, his rage rising as well. There's no way he's going to back down now, not when he's finally trapped Karofsky. "I'm not going to change who I am just because you can't comprehend me. You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you!"

"Get out of my face!" Ironically, it's Karofsky that's leaning closer as hot red blood colors him.

Kurt screams back. "You are nothing but a scared little boy who can't stand who extraordinarily ordinary you are!"

And then Karofsky's even closer than he was before—right in front of Kurt's eyes, and it's not until a second later that he realizes that his oppressor, the bully that's been abusing him for three months... is kissing him. Passionately, desperately, both hands clenching Kurt's face, violating him, trying to gain access to a part of Kurt that Kurt's reserved for a special someone—and in that instant, Blaine's face rises to Kurt's mind and he knows.

Kurt pushes Karofsky away, staring in shock at the boy in front of him. A new light is being shed on so many things and Kurt doesn't like what he sees. Karofsky stands in front of him, a broken expression on his face as he tries to lean in again, tries to take Kurt again when Kurt has been saving himself for Blaine all this time.

This time, Kurt shoves Karofsky away, stumbling back. He places a hand over his mouth; his lips are numb where Karofsky had pushed up against them, sloppily, desperately, against Kurt's will. He can't think of anything except Karofsky's past and the possible future with Blaine. So many thoughts as slumps to the floor, only able to watch as Karofsky storms out of the locker room.

He doesn't miss the tear that escapes from the corner of Karofsky's eye. And then Kurt's own vision blurs with tears.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_I am so sorry my terrible updating schedule! Testing you readers' patience by saying that I'd update weekly and then skipping a weekend. Thanks to those who've been with me since summertime: **The-Riddle-Heiress, Calypso C, Shelby-Belby, ItsCanonNow, tiny 1995, november21, polarpi, xxBlaineXKurtxx, flmnstry, LilyLunaCho, WHMSCheerioBrittany, Arianna Lillian, maggielyn, Kieki13, **and **BrittanaLove** - I can't believe you guys have still stuck around after all this time, and even after my increasingly long update times (heh, when I used to update every couple days... oh, the good ol' days of asocial summer)! And for people who've picked this story up after TGP season ended - **ginger-joannie,**__** SoOutOfControl,**__** Sweet Serendipity, Sarami, Scheherazade Empress **(I had to check that at least three times to make sure I spelled it right =_=), **JoJo127, akoayphilipino, SPEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK **(throw in some extra 'E's for good measure), and **Japanese Dolphin - **thanks for taking the time to review, I really appreciate it!_

_HEY. For any anime/manga people out there, earlier this year I wrote a Kingdom Hearts/Bleach crossover story: "Heart Body Soul" (.net/s/7209838/1/Heart_Body_Soul) and only just started posting the initial chapters on this site. You guys should definitely go check it out if you're Kingdom Hearts or Bleach fans. (Those were my obsessions last year. Glee Project has been my obsession since June.) I'd really appreciate some feedback there, but I'm not baiting the story (like saying "No updates for GP:LOL until HBS gets this many reviews.") The two stories are separate, but I'd like to see some more appreciation for a story I put quite a bit of effort into. Thanks!_

_Thanks for reading and reviewing and just sticking around in general and being awesome and stuff. I love you all! _


	27. Multiply & Divide

"Alright, guys," Mr. Schuester shouts, trying to get the Glee club's attention. Finn and Quinn aren't officially going out yet, though it's known widely that they cheated with each other. Sam's with Santana, and Rachel's single... again. This time, though, instead of staring sadly at Finn (which is all she did sophomore year), she pointedly ignores him while staring at Quinn. Quinn slowly begins to notice this, her expression morphing from disbelief to ridicule to annoyance to downright murderous anger. At this point, Rachel hurriedly butts into the nearest conversation.

"I think yellow would best suit you," she addresses Sunshine authoritatively.

Tina shoots Rachel a deadpan glare. "...Who asked you?"

Rachel barrels on anyways, eager to make it seem like she hasn't staring at Quinn for the past five minutes. "Your namesake and personality constantly remind me of pleasant sunshine, and it would only serve to compliment your obvious qualities by dressing likewise."

Matheus leans into Rachel's line of sight. "Rachel, you hardly know Sunshine."

"I've never seen you talking to her," Tina snarks.

"...This is the most you've ever spoken to me since our first meeting," Sunshine finishes, though she looks more intrigued than hostile. In fact, Tina looks more pissed than Sunshine does.

Rachel blushes. "Nevertheless, I have observed your behavior from afar and that is what I have deemed to be your most suitable wardrobe selection. Perhaps you would like to go shopping sometime?"

Damian, Tina, Hannah, Matheus, and Sunshine all eye Rachel's current wardrobe selection: a maroon skirt pulled up a bit too high coupled with a pink argyle sweater.

"Uhhhh... that's okay," Sunshine declines shortly. "I'll keep shopping online."

"Excellent choice," Rachel nods knowingly. "The low prices of the internet coupled with the wide range of choice is probably optimal for internationally-knowledgeable persons like you."

Sunshine glances over at Matheus, and they do their body language/telepathic communication thing again. Tina just glares at Rachel.

Another unwelcome visitor butts into the conversation: Brittany, who drapes herself over Damian's shoulders and rests her head against the back of his neck. He instantly freezes up, red rising in his face. In response, Hannah guffaws, remembering the awkward story Damian told her about his first week—and first encounter—with Brittany's advances.

Marissa taps Brittany on the shoulder. "What's wrong?" she asks gently, pulling the somber blonde off Damian's body.

"I'm lonely," Brittany murmurs as she sits upright, finding Marissa's hand. "San's not here."

Tina scans the room. "Sam's not here either," she adds. "Santana's probably off whoring Boy Scout in the astronomy classroom."

Hannah's eyebrows rise comically, a habit she's picked up from Damian. "Tina!" she gasps, clapping her hands over Sunshine's and Matheus' ears. "There are innocent children listening!"

Sunshine wriggles out of Hannah's grasp. "If you'd seen us last weekend, you'd change your mind," she simpers, sharing a look with Matheus. It's their thing; they've been close enough friends that they've picked each other's habits to the point where they act very much like two halves of a whole; they'll finish each other's sentences or simply communicate non-verbally, through eye contact or body language that speak a thousand words.

But then Sunshine notices that Matheus isn't responding. He looks like he's lost off in his own little world, staring at her with a strange expression on his face. She snaps her fingers in front of his eyes. "Earth back to Matheus," she teases. "We've lost contact. Reestablish connection?"

Hannah drops out of her friends' conversations as her phone buzzes. She looks at the sender's name, then, before she can stop herself, she glances at Quinn. The blonde cheerleader sends her a wan smile, but her eyes communicate a bit of desperation. Hannah tries to send back warmth before she turns back to her friends.

In the moment she hasn't paid attention to her friends, Brittany has transitioned from childish hand-holding to leaning completely on Marissa—and Marissa is completely alright with that, a girl who not two minutes ago had been a complete stranger. Marissa rubs small circles on the girl's back as Brittany leans against Marissa's shoulder. "Don't worry," she murmurs. "Santana will be back before you know it."

Brittany shakes her head vehemently, blending her bright blonde hair in Marissa's flaming red. "Santana doesn't like to share," she whimpers. "As long as Sam's there..."

Matheus tries to draw attention away from his zoning-out while imagining Sunshine by talking to Brittany, but he can't stop the memory of her loose black hair down around her shoulders, skimpy black top that barely covered her body, the length of her smooth brown legs— "Hey Brittany, I could try talking to Sam," he offers. "I knew him a while back. Maybe I can talk something out—"

At that moment, Brad the piano player begins to pound out a familiar Broadway tune, which inspires Rachel to follow along with vocals. And of course, Rachel's singing voice overwhelms all conversation in the room, and within thirty seconds the entire Glee club is unified under song, individual and relationship problems forgotten momentarily.

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes,  
>Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear.<br>Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.  
>How do you measure, measure a year?<em>

_In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee_  
><em>In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.<em>  
><em>In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.<em>  
><em>How do you measure a year in the life?<em>

_How bout love?_

* * *

><p>Hannah glances around the interior of the foreign coffee shop. She's never been here before. Heck, she doesn't even drink coffee. But Quinn asked her out, so of course she'll take a coffee date over a regular phone call. Though if Quinn's looking for a face-to-face conversation, it must be pretty serious.<p>

Hannah looks for a blonde ponytail and tight red-and-white cheerleading uniform, but instead she finds a quiet girl in a cute dress, wearing her perfectly straight, long blonde hair down sitting on a couch in front of the fire with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. Hannah sets her bag and her drink down on a nearby coffee table, alerting her friend to her presence. Quinn looks up and smiles.

"Why this coffee shop?" Hannah asks. "I've never heard of this place before. And it smells like old people."

"It smells like coffee to me."

"Coffee and old people. Quite cozy." Hannah settles softly on the couch, careful not to disturb Quinn's drink, then folds her legs underneath her. "How are you doing?"

"I chose this place... truthfully, because it's quiet. Not a lot of people know about this place, but my mom knows the owners and I get discounts," Quinn answers Hannah's first question. After a bit of thinking, Hannah gets the unspoken sentiment: Quinn's the head cheerleader and Hannah is nothing. If anybody else saw them associating...

Hannah chooses to look at the glass half-full, though, so she grins before she tests her hot chocolate. "Do I get a discount for being the friend of a friend?"

"Maybe, but probably not," Quinn shrugs, then giggles when Hannah splutters at the heat of her drink.

"Hot hot hot..."

They talk about life and random bits of information for a while; Hannah observes Quinn, watching as she warms up to the conversation, as bits of her haughty, imposing, queen bee facade break off and reveal the sweet, beautiful girl underneath.

"Half the time I don't even know what I'm doing," Quinn admits quietly at one point in the conversation, dabbing at a drop of hot chocolate sliding down the side of her mug with a napkin. "Coach Sylvester just keeps pushing us harder and harder and she expects everybody to instantly know what she's talking about. It's easy enough to do it by myself, but the girls at the bottom of the pyramid can't even keep up. It's times like this that I want to tell Sam about..."

Quinn trails off, suddenly vulnerable; she, the head cheerleader, and Sam, the football quarterback, had broke up as of last Saturday and the juicy details have been passed all around the halls all week. Quinn cheated on Sam with Finn, and Sam broke up with Quinn and hooked up with Santana in the same day, causing some to speculate that Sam might have also been cheating with Santana. There are a couple more vicious rumors about what happened over the weekend, but Hannah chooses to ignore those. Besides, she had her own personal problems to deal with last Friday.

"Not just Sam," Quinn interrupts herself. "Anybody. Somebody to talk to. It's stupid, I'll hear something or think of something and then I'll take out my phone to text about it... only I don't know whom I'm texting." Quinn stares forlornly at her phone.

Hannah laughs, taking her phone out of her bag to make a point. "I'll take out my phone and forget _what_ I'm texting. Halfway through texting it, too."

Quinn smiles, then points at the floor underneath Hannah's bag. "You dropped your glasses."

Hannah follows Quinn's eyes. Cameron's glasses lie on the ground where they fell, probably dislodged when Hannah pulled her phone out of the pocket where she keeps both the objects. "Oh... these aren't mine." She puts them on and makes a goofy face. "See? Not me at all." She can feel perfectly fine through them... no blurriness at all. Are they fake?

Then the realization that these are Cameron's glasses—the ones he's worn for almost three years—settles on her. She flushes slightly.

Quinn tilts her head quizzically. "Whose are they then?"

"A... a friend," Hannah says haltingly. "They belong to a good friend." She already knows her face is expressing unbidden feelings, no matter how much she wants to hide them.

Quinn looks like she's waiting for more. Actually, she's read Hannah's face already and seems to know what Hannah really means, which causes Hannah's composure to break down even more.

Hannah tries to make light of it. "Fine, I happen to like this very good friend of mine," she laughs nervously, taking off Cameron's glasses. "He left them in my car last week and I haven't had the opportunity to return them. He lives in Westerville."

Quinn nods slightly, not showing any sign of surprise or revulsion at Hannah "hoarding" something that belongs to her crush. "So... have you told him?"

Hannah glances at the floor, cleaning Cameron's glasses on her shirt. "It's... complicated." Quinn continues to wait, but Hannah doesn't want to divulge anymore. When it comes down to it, Hannah will listen to and take on other people's problems... but she's not so willing to share her own troubles.

And really, she just wants Cameron to be happy. If getting back with Marissa makes him happy, then Hannah will be happy too. Happy for them. It brings her happiness when she makes other people laugh, or when she sees them paired up and complementing each other. Aside from her own life, when she sees other people happy, Hannah is happy as well.

Quinn takes Hannah's hand and clasps it with her own. "Hannah," she says firmly. "You're a really sweet girl and I know he's noticed you, but boys. Are. Completely. Clueless. He's not going to know unless you tell him up straight."

Hannah laughs awkwardly. "It's just... we've been friends forever. And I've liked him for maybe two years, but I don't want to ruin what we have. We're really close, but I know he likes somebody else. No, he loves her." Hannah withholds Cameron's and Marissa's names; Quinn has known about their triangular friendship since she transferred here in junior high, and Hannah feels more details would be a little too personal.

"This is high school," Quinn declares knowingly, unconsciously adopting the eloquent authority of the head cheerleader who runs McKinley High into her voice. "People are just beginning to find themselves and who they are, and that process involves trying on people and relationships like clothes. Just because this guy has his eyes locked on this other girl, it doesn't mean that this girl fulfills all of his expectations. Maybe, because you've known him so long, you might be in a better place to give him what he needs. Him being so focused on another girl also doesn't mean that you can't provide him the opportunity of variety." Quinn's tone softens again as she squeezes Hannah's hand gently before releasing it. "Maybe what he really needs is a big, happy girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, somebody with an infectious laugh and a good ear."

Hannah smiles in genuine gratitude, but after a moment she shakes her head. "I can't do it." _It costs too much. Our friendship. I can't lose that._

Quinn pins Hannah with a stare—not an icy cold glare that would freeze any lesser high schooler, but just a slightly heated look that says, _It's your choice whether to be strong or not_. "You'll never know what he feels until you tell him how you feel."

Hannah smiles back weakly. _But I do know. I know Cameron too well._

* * *

><p>Lindsay won't meet Damian's eyes, even when he casually sits next to her during dinner.<p>

"Hey Lindsay!" he greets enthusiastically. "I can't believe that the soccer season's almost over. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with all my afternoons if I'm not coming over to Carmel."

Lindsay picks at her spinach salad. "Mmm-hmm," she replies dully.

Damian doesn't know what to make of her rather lackluster response, but decides to plow on anyways. "I still haven't figured it out yet, but I've got to find an excuse to keep hanging out with you and Samuel and Miki." At this point, Lindsay looks like she wants to move, so Damian dives into the first thing that comes to his mind, a question that will detain her. "So what have you been doing lately?"

"Huh?" Lindsay looks like she just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar, her face is so guilty.

Damian grins teasingly to put her at ease. "We never talk anymore. What's up? How's life? Yari?"

A bit of the the old Lindsay shines through as her curiosity gets the better of her. "Is that supposed to be some sort of Irish slang?"

"Dublin-speak. It just means _How are you doing_?"

"Oh." Lindsay is about to snap back into silence, but Damian draws her back in with a shoulder bump. "Well, I asked you a question in Irish. You could try to answer in Irish."

Lindsay jumps at the physical contact. "Oh. Well... I'm not doing a whole lot," she mumbles in a plain American accent. "Soccer, school, the usual."

"Marissa says the autumn theater production starts shows in two weeks," Damian remembers. "Am I going to see you shining on stage? Samuel tells me you have a beautiful voice."

Lindsay flinches at the beginning of his statement, and her cheeks burn as she ducks her head. "I'm not in it."

"Oh. Really? Why n—"

"Thanks, Damian, but I didn't audition. I... was busy that week, so I couldn't go in."

"Aw, too bad. I would have loved to hear you sing."

"Her voice?" Samuel pipes from the hammock. "Amazing. She's featured in one of the covers our band posted on Youtube."

Damian tries to catch Lindsay's eye, but she stares at the ground fixedly. "Can I see it?" he asks eagerly.

"Better yet," Samuel grins, darting into the house. Damian looks at McKynleigh questioningly, only to find that there are a million sentiments in McKynleigh's gaze. Confusing (and mostly negative) emotions that overwhelm Damian at their sudden appearance. Before he can comprehend them, though, a strum of strings draws his attention. Samuel's standing on the porch, a guitar slung over his shoulder. He takes a minute or two, tuning it slowly while walking towards them. "A live performance," Samuel grins, nudging Lindsay with his foot. Lindsay shoots him a vicious glare, but he turns around blithely and begins to beat on the instrument loudly.

_I think I'm drowning, asphyxiated; I wanna break this spell that you've created.  
>You're something beautiful—a contradiction. I wanna play the game, I want the friction.<br>__You will be the death of me, you will be the death of me._

_Bury it... I won't let you bury it.  
><em>_I won't let you smother it, I won't let you murder it.  
><em>_Our time is running out, our time is running out.  
><em>_You can't push it underground, you can't stop it screaming out._

Samuel stops suddenly and points his pick at Lindsay. A groan comes up from the people in the backyard at the pause in music, but still Lindsay looks at the ground, her thick black hair hiding her face from Damian's view.

Damian nudges her gently. "Everybody's waiting on you," he says tantalizingly. Lindsay doesn't respond, so he pokes her again playfully. "I'd love to hear you sing," he repeats quietly.

She lifts her head, and the look she gives him is startling and somewhat contradictory in itself: angry sorrow, reluctant desire. Samuel immediately begins to play, launching Lindsay into song—at first, softly to herself, then growing in strength until she bounces out of her seat, violent emotion leaking from every pore as she belts emotively.

_I wanted freedom. Bound and restricted, I tried to give you up but I'm addicted.  
>Now that you know I'm trapped—sense of elation—you'd never dream of breaking this fixation.<br>__You will squeeze the life out of me._

Samuel begins to harmonize with her, but really, it's Lindsay that's shining—her performance is so real. Her voice starts to exhibit more growl of a Christina Aguilera timber as she accelerates into the chorus.

_Bury it... I won't let you bury it.  
><em>_I won't let you smother it, I won't let you murder it.  
><em>_Our time is running out, our time is running out.  
><em>_You can't push it underground, you can't stop it screaming out._

She tapers off into a howl; but unlike Cameron's, it's raw and unrestrained and conveys her desperate emotion.

_You will suck the life out of me._

Damian claps along with everybody else, but Lindsay promptly disappears into the house. Samuel takes her vacated spot, sliding in next to Damian and almost smacking McKynleigh in the face with head of the guitar. "Hey, watch it!" she yells, pushing the pegs away. "You almost shoved those up my nose."

Samuel peers down the length of the finger board at her. "Your nostrils are too small," he concludes. "Not possible, but we can try."

Damian shoots a surprised glance at Samuel. "Lindsay was amazing," he marvels. "Why isn't she in your band or something?"

"Her brothers didn't want her there, and neither did she," Samuel shrugs. "The only time she'd be able to play video games was when we were practicing, anyways, so she never came down."

"She plays video games?" Now that's an image Damian can't imagine readily.

"Oh man, you kidding? She kills on a regular basis. Left 4 Dead? She'll lay waste to you. Call of Duty? She'll put you down before you know it. Halo? Don't even get me started."

McKynleigh leans forward so she can address Damian. "Hey, I forgot," she says slowly, her phone held in her hand. Was she just texting? "Lindsay told me earlier that she was going to be busy tonight, and to get a ride home from Samuel."

"No!" Samuel groans. "Tell Lindsay to drive her lazy bum over Lima, I need to go home and waste time and record a new Youtube video."

McKynleigh shrugs. "Lindsay can't do it." She picks up her empty plate and walks into the house.

"Well," Samuel sighs, tossing his hair and whacking Damian in the face. "I guess it's just you and me, bro."

Damian nods numbly, picking loose hairs out of his face and trying to figure out why Lindsay is suddenly so hostile. "Yeah."

* * *

><p><em><span>Featured songs<span>:  
><em>"_Seasons of Love" by Rent  
><em>"_Our Time is Running Out" by Muse_

_Author's Rant_

_Whew! Update! Finally! I know you all have been missing this story for almost two weeks, but even me... trying to pick up the storyline again where I dropped it off two weeks ago - it was hard recalling everything that happened haha. I had to go back like two chapters and re-read things. Apologies in advance for repetitions or inconsistencies!_

_I have heeded Damsay lovers' pleas for a Damsay scene! Muse's song was perfect for Lindsay's sentiment. Once I heard Samuel's and his brother's cover of it on Youtube, I wrote it in._

_I love Lindsay's new character, Harmony. Of course she's a foil to Rachel, everybody saw that coming. And the entire episode in general was fantastic. Instead of having a "Theme of the Week" style, the writers are really going back to the basics in depicting the lives of high school underdogs. I hope they stick in this venue. Maybe even stick with a little bit of continuity from episode to episode! So here's to my effort in trying to mix TGP and Glee characters: Hannah and Quinn. I'm going to try and continue mixing both worlds now that TGP is officially over and Glee is officially in for the year. Whoop!_


	28. Relationship Math

"Ellis! Ellis! Please! I have an emergency!"

Ellis whirls around in her chair, expecting a full emotional breakdown. What she's confronted with is a frantic Emily, but not on the scale of boyfriend trouble. "What's wrong?"

"Ms. Kauer found out that David's really been writing my English essays, and now I have to write my own!"

"No, I'm not going to write them for you," Ellis states flatly, turning back to Shakespeare's _Macbeth_.

Emily throws herself on her bed hopelessly. "I know. You're ten times smarter than David anyways, and all the teachers recognize your style of writing. But maybe ya could give me a skeleton-outline sort of deal, like what should I argue and stuff, and then I'll fill it in with crap. So it'll still be my words and I'll be doing most of the work."

Ellis rolls her eyes. "Critical thinking is half the work, honey." Emily rolls onto her stomach, nailing Ellis with the huge puppy eyes. Ellis grins back fearlessly. "I'll do it, but because I love you, girl, and not because you're naturally manipulative."

"I love ya too, boo." Emily is suddenly lively and spirited. "I'm going on a date with David, tata! By the way, the paper's due tomorrow."

"WHAT?"

"Info's in my English binder in my backpack. Love ya!" Emily whizzes into the bathroom and locks the door.

Ellis throws her hands in the air in exasperation. She should have seen this coming, after all. And Emily had probably waited until the last day to tell her anyways, knowing that Ellis was a terrible procrastinator. Besides, Ellis doesn't do outlines—she does short paragraphs. Something that Emily had probably taken into account as well.

They know each other too well.

Ellis digs through Emily's backpack, pulls out the right binder, and scans over the assignment. It's a simple expository essay and a million thoughts spring into Ellis' mind, but she decides to dumb it down a bit and choose a straightforward approach that Emily can comprehend and explain easily.

As soon as she pulls up her laptop, though, her phone buzzes with a text.

_i never thanked u for the weekend makeover,_ Sunshine says.

_No prob,_ Ellis texts back. _i have personal exp looking like i'm 10 instead of 16, but emily really helped me out with that._

_i know i felt more mature with ur help. Thanks :) saturday was really fun, even if my original purpose there didn't work out :( _

_marissa n bryce?_

_u have good memory :) yeah, bryce seems to like marissa... but i have another friend who's liked marissa for a long time. and we're trying to get them together. u said that emily was bryce's ex...?_

Ellis considers this for a moment. Bryce gets a girl that he won't dispose of so easily—Ellis only cares because it might hurt Emily to see a girl that's lasted as long as she did. After all, Emily had been Bryce's longest girlfriend: fourteen months. And two of those months had been with crap from the previous ex, until Emily finally bit back and ended her. Now Marissa here has the potential to last longer than a couple weeks... and _her_ friends don't want her to fall for Bryce. But maybe, by working with Sunshine and her friends, she and Alex could split Marissa and Bryce... and get Bryce and Emily back together.

"Ya writing that paper yet, hon?" Emily calls as she bustles out of the bathroom, perfume drifting faintly off her pretty features accented by slight makeup: full lips, long dark lashes, straight black hair. "I'll see ya in a few!"

"I hate you," Ellis drawls.

"I love ya too."

The door closes, and Ellis picks up her cell phone again. so _u have a plan?_

* * *

><p>"You missed an awesome weekend at the club," Blaine sighs, sprawled on Cameron's bed when he enters the room. "We didn't even get drunk and it was awesome."<p>

"I heard you went to _The Nightrose_." Cameron makes a face. "And that it was all sweaty guys using Halloween as an excuse to go crazy insane."

"I'll protest that statement by saying that I got a bucket of water dumped over me. Not my fault," Blaine grins. "Weren't you supposed to be tutoring Emily?"

"She went on a two-week anniversary date with David. Her roommate told me." Cameron tosses his book bag carelessly onto his bed; Blaine catches it before textbooks can knock the breath out of him. "It'll all good, anyways—her parents pay me a fixed amount, so it's their money she's wasting."

"Sweet deal. So, I need to drop by McKinley High tomorrow to help a friend. Cover for me?"

Cameron drops into his office chair and flips his laptop open. "Let's hope your success rate is better than mine."

Blaine sighs—Cameron's gone on two trips to McKinley High, and neither of them succeeded in winning Marissa back. There's not a lot he can say to Cameron to make him feel better, but at least his roommate's trying again. If at first you don't succeed... "Hey... where are your glasses, by the way?"

"Don't need them. They were fake."

"Right. Never would have guessed, seeing as I've never seen you without them," Blaine shrugs. "Why wear them if you can see fine without them?"

"I don't know," Cameron replies quietly. "I really don't know."

* * *

><p>It's almost eleven at night when Damian finally figures his mom probably won't be coming home within the next couple hours; it isn't work that's holding her back. He doesn't really want to think about what she's probably doing. Or if she'll even come home at all. If she'll show up tomorrow in the same clothes she wore today, trying to pretend that nothing's happened and that there isn't this big awkward divide between her and her son when he stares at her accusingly and she just looks away.<p>

...Anyways, Damian has the house to himself for a few hours at least, so he sneaks onto his mom's computer. His mind and his heart are tangled up in each other and he doesn't know what to think anymore, but there was always one person he could talk to. Somebody who could help him untangle whatever he had on his mind.

His mother wouldn't approve. Maybe half the reason why she dragged him to another continent was to get him away from that one man who Damian always looked up to for guidance. Damian really wasn't that emotionally close to her, after all. If he needed to vent, he'd go out on the field and kick the ball around with his father.

The phone rings on. And on. And on. Until Damian hangs up, feeling lonelier than he has ever before.

* * *

><p>"Hey Sam! What's up?"<p>

Sam's out walking the streets late at night, trying to clear his head and is surprised in several ways. One, that somebody else is out walking this late at night. Two, the speaker is much shorter than Sam, even though he's riding a bike: Matheus. Three, they haven't spoken more than two sentences to each other since Sam became the school's quarterback. Or more like, Sam ignored Matheus in keeping with the status quo.

But there's nobody watching now. So why does he find it hard to talk to his former friend? He plasters a smile on his face; he can't help it if he sounds slightly patronizing, but Matheus' shorter stature encourages it. "What are you doing out so late?"

"I live around here, and I'm just going down to the local store to grab a gallon of milk." Matheus slows down to walking speed, just barely keeping his balance while keeping the bike in motion. "What about you?"

"Just clearing my head," Sam says ambiguously. Matheus really doesn't need to know that Santana just satisfied all of Sam's wildest fantasies in a skanky motel room right next to the local convenience store. The girl really knew what she was doing; even after having been milked dry, Sam's still riding a hormonal high as he walks home.

As if Matheus read his mind, he asks, "When did you and Santana happen?"

Sam immediately jumps to the defensive. "What are you talking about?"

"We weren't friends very long and I don't know you that well, but this needs to be said: Santana is a bad idea."

Sam's hackles rise. Who's Matheus to denounce his girlfriend, especially when they aren't friends? "What the hell do you know about it? We're in a relationship because we're in love."

Matheus bristles from the unspoken insult: he's never been in a relationship, so he wouldn't know about the intricacies of chemistry between two people. In response, he snorts derisively. "You can't be serious. Santana doesn't do things for _love_. Not the love you were looking for when you went after Quinn with a promise ring."

Sam's face twists—that's a painful memory, so he lashes out at Matheus. "She was the one who cheated," Sam growls. "I didn't break any promises; I was faithful to her up until—"

"Until Santana offered you her big twins, right?" Matheus finishes. "But that's not the point; you gave Quinn the promise ring because that's what you're looking for in a relationship, right? Complete devotion, and never pushing her for more than a kiss. So what the hell are you doing running over to Santana?"

"Maybe I felt like a change of pace."

Matheus considers this, but skepticism is written all over his face. "Okay; as much as I find it difficult to believe that somebody would switch relationship views so drastically—"

"Why the hell are you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?" Sam interrupts with no small amount of incensed annoyance.

"I would be out of line if this were just your business," Matheus retorts, "But as it is, there are other people's hearts are on the line. It's not just your problem."

"Who?"

Matheus answers indirectly with another question. "What were you doing during Glee practice earlier? Brittany tells me Santana skipped Cheerio practice too."

This Matheus is not the quiet, easygoing kid Sam met his first days in the halls of McKinley High. This Matheus is demanding, fierce, powerful, the leader-type that Sam tries to emulate. Even now, through a haze of anger, Sam feels an undercurrent of some other much more turbulent emotion, one that made him submit under stronger boys back at his all-boys school in California. That's an old emotion, one that he wants to run from... but Matheus is on a bike, so he plants his feet. "It's none of your effing business."

Matheus is offended. Good. Now back off. "Hey, I'm just telling you, friend to friend: Santana doesn't give; she takes. She's using you."

"We're not friends," Sam snarls, as his anger, ambition, defiance, and desire swirl in a confusing mess in his mind and his heart pounds in his ears.

And then he runs.

* * *

><p>Emily goes straight from the dorm door to the bathroom. She slams both doors as hard as she can, startling Ellis out of the homework concentration bubble she's placed herself in.<p>

_Here we go again_, she sighs. "What'd he screw up this time?"

Emily doesn't reply. The sink turns on.

Ellis returns to typing. Damn, she _did _end up writing the entire paper. Five pages worth of excellent, grade-A+ material. Ms. Kauer will definitely be suspicious. Ellis saves a copy onto a thumb drive just in case, then begins to delete whole sections out the paper so Emily can fill it in herself. It's 11pm; Emily's used to going to bed at 2am anyways, so she has plenty of time to fill the blanks in with her limited reasoning.

By the time she finishes removing the meat of the essay, which produces the desired skeleton-outline, Emily has stepped out the bathroom in a tight white tank top and sweats, her pretty face clear of makeup. Ellis doesn't take her eyes off her computer, waiting for Emily to open up when she's ready.

"I screwed up."

This draws Ellis' attention. Emily admitting she was in the wrong? Impossible.

Emily buries her face in her pillow and doesn't speak for a minute or two. Then: "I'm not happy with David."

_Surprise, surprise_, Ellis thinks.

"And I won't be happy with anyone ever, not until I get over Bryce."

"What happened?"

Emily raises her head from her pillow. "I pushed too many buttons and David fell apart."

"But then you'd be coming back to me saying _he_ screwed up, that he was too sensitive or too fragile or too weak or something. Who beat some sense into you?"

Emily laughs weakly. "Ya know me too well, chica. Alex did. He happened to be working a shift then."

Ellis whirls around in her chair. "You guys went to the _Broiler Pot_ for a two week anniversary?"

"It was David's idea," Emily moans. "And he still paid for everything, even though he walked out on me."

"Until you wrap things up with Bryce," Ellis advises, "Nobody can live up to your expectations."

"Yeah? So how am I supposed to talk to him when he won't even look at me? When he always has some girl hanging off his arm?"

Ellis walks across the room to sit on the bed next to her best friend. "This is the part where we get a lot of help."

* * *

><p>"Lindsay? I know it's sort of late at night... and that you're usually in bed by now, but I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."<p>

There's silence on the other end of the line. Samuel doesn't really know what to say beyond the initial apology; he's more of the guy to let everything slide, but from what McKynleigh told him, Lindsay's going through a rough time right now.

"You have an amazing voice," Samuel continues, "And I'd assumed that you'd totally be comfortable with singing in front of your friends. Especially when a particular somebody—"

"It's not that way," Lindsay snaps sharply, which brings Samuel up short. "I don't like him, he doesn't like me. End of story."

Samuel almost laughs out loud, but he catches himself. "Are you kidding me? No, wait, are you kidding yourself?"

"So you caught me," Lindsay snarks. "So maybe I was just too obvious. But it was a mistake. Just like every other mistake I make because I'm destined for Lovely Never After with people who never want me back the same way."

Samuel takes a moment to process this. "You're saying... that you don't think Damian wants you?"

"Not want. 100% commitment: that's what I'd do for him, but he could never do that," Lindsay croaks bitterly. "He already has a girlfriend."

Samuel's stomach drops. As an observer, he's seen Lindsay and Damian grow closer over the past couple weeks—he and McKynleigh had even set bets on how long before they got together. But then Lindsay started drawing into herself and McKynleigh started talking to Lindsay more and Damian flirted with Lindsay even more obviously and Samuel watched everything go down as an observer from the outside, because nobody included him in their interactions.

But if Damian has a girlfriend... then why would he flirt with Lindsay? From the past weeks Samuel hung out with Damian, Samuel knows that Damian's not the unfaithful type. Not even close; Damian's on the other side of the spectrum in that he's completely devoted.

"No way," he argues. "Damian would never cheat on anybody. He's a good guy."

"I saw him with his girlfriend at the fair," Lindsay states bluntly. "After he ditched us for the show choir performance, I didn't find him again until an hour later... and he was right next to the stage holding her. ...Just holding her. Like nothing else mattered." Her voice cracks. "But then... but then... he came back to us fifteen minutes later... and he pretended like..."

"Maybe she was just a friend," Samuel counters.

Lindsay laughs. "Fat chance. You know how Damian is. He avoids close physical contact with pretty much everybody, and when we tackle-hug him, he freezes up like he's been electrocuted. There's no way he'd cuddle with any other girl unless he was already intimate with her." Lindsay clears her throat, and when she speaks again, her voice is strong and level. Samuel is aware that Lindsay's raising her mental defenses, because she's breaking out the big words and speaking with a more sophisticated tone. Fakeness: Lindsay's greatest defense mechanism. "I know he's interested in me and it cuts me deep every time I'm around him... but that doesn't matter anymore. Even if he broke up with Marissa and is somehow available, I just don't have time for silly love games anymore. I quit."

"You're going to quit... loving."

"I don't have the time. I never have any time. I don't have time to play video games, I don't even have time to sleep as much anymore, and I definitely don't have the time to waste on people! No boys, no girls, no Damian. Case closed." A small pause, in which Lindsay takes a breath, regroups, and calms down. "Thanks for checking up on me, Sam. You're a good friend." And then she disconnects.

* * *

><p>Miraculously, she answers. It <em>is <em>Damian's eighth Skype call; but he's more than surprised she picked up anyways.

Her dark brown hair is an unruly mess. Ashley looks like she just tumbled out of bed; she probably did, as Ireland is six hours ahead of Ohio time. Her green eyes are soft though, even as her hard voice rebukes, "I'm not supposed to be talking to you."

"I need to talk to somebody," Damian answers vulnerably.

Ashley's composure breaks. "Are you alright?"

"...I can't—"

"I swear, if you start crying, I'm going to disconnect this call."

Damian grins mirthlessly. "No, I ain't gonna break down. I just... there's this... I..."

Ashley sighs. "Spit it out, Damo. School starts in an hour." She peers into the screen. "What time is it there anyways?"

"Past midnight," Damian responds.

"Wow, Damo's pushing his bedtime... this must be pretty serious." Ashley leans back. "So? Why are you calling me?"

Damian takes a deep breath. "There's this girl."

Ashley leans back in her chair and groans softly. "Ugh... you remember the whole reason why we're not talking?" Damian doesn't reply, so she continues. "It's because you're a house plant."

Damian's eyebrows shoot up into his head. "Say that again?"

Ashley leans forward and stares him in the eye. "You're a house plant. If somebody tries to move you from one pot to another, you want to shrivel up and die. Don't get me wrong; we're still friends... but if we talked like this every day, you wouldn't put down your roots. So I'm going to disconnect this call, and you're going to go out in the big wide world of America, forget about me and Troy, and make friends you can play football with." She leans back in satisfaction, having made her point. "You say there's this girl? Don't let me hold you back. Go for her."

"She looks like you," Damian whispers quietly. Ashley freezes, and Damian surges forward, having broken through her rant. "She was playing footy. And at first glance she looked exactly like you. It's what drew me to her... and then we became friends, and then it became something more, but I don't know if it's because of Lindsay or Ashley. I don't know. It drives me insane, that I might love this girl not for who she is, but just because she looks like you, and I—"

"So if you like her now, then those it really matter how you came to like her in the first place?"

"Yes. No. Of course. It's not the right reason. The whole foundation is faulty."

"Love is love."

"Love is not that simple."

"If you want to make it complex, go ahead. Have fun."

Damian groans and smacks his forehead lightly against the tabletop. "I ain't... it's not... either way, she's slipping away. And that's the thing: I didn't even realize how I felt until she started giving me the cold shoulder. And now I'm stuck not sure whether or not these feelings are real or—"

"You can't feel fake emotions. Listen to me, Damo. You're thinking too hard. Stop thinking about it. Forget about me and what I look like and how you've never beat me at football and what we used to do every summer. Forget about the first date, the first kiss. Forget about us." Ashley takes a shaky breath, and that comforts Damian slightly. Ashley's good at straight-up, brutal honesty, but it's nice to know she actually feels something too. "Leave us behind and don't look back, because you're on your own now and you're never coming back, like your mum said. You are never coming back to Ireland. We are a part of your past now, and you're not living if you try to live in the past."

"I ain't—"

"Don't interrupt me, Damo. You have never won an argument with me either, have you? So just shut up and listen." She must see the broken expression on Damian's face, because she softens her tone. "It's just tough love, sweetheart. You're supposed to take it personally. Stop thinking about what you left behind; it's all behind you. Don't think about it; just do it. Live it."

Damian buries his face in his hands, and in the darkness cast over his eyes by his hands, he sees yellow autumn leaves.

_The reflection of the sun off her golden chandelier earrings. The smell of her wafting around him. The pressure of her arm hooked in his. Her laugh as they joke about the rigged carnival games. She turns back and calls for McKynleigh and Samuel to hurry up. She talks to him, and he listens to the gentle lilt of her American accent. Her billowy blue shirt ripples in the breeze, contrasting with the dry leaves that crunch underfoot. Her feet deviate slightly to step on promising leaves, and she giggles when they crunch satisfactorily. Her eyes sparkle when she looks up at him and he looks down at her, but then he realizes they aren't green and he wants to pull away._

_She notices the change in his body afterward; he's stiffer, not as relaxed, and she drops his arm to surprise Samuel, who's concentrating on a carnival game. He loses, but he dares her to try... and $25 later, they've won a beanie baby cow. Damian carelessly gives it to Lindsay and her eyes sparkle again as they meet his..._

_Two hours later, she won't even look at him. And Damian realizes a piece of his heart is missing._

"Great, now you've finally offed him," groans another voice. "You _can_ kill people by breaking their hearts."

"Shut it," Ashley hisses.

Damian looks at his two best friends, separated from them by thousands of miles and eight hours. "I love you guys," he says weakly.

"You better," Troy growls. "We'll probably have to run to school now, since we missed the bus."

"Bull," Damian laughs weakly. "You live two blocks away."

"Have you seen Ashley's bookbag?" Troy protests. "Half the time she dumps it on me so she can keep up with her girlfriends."

"Is this case closed?" Ashley asks gently, pushing Troy out of the screen so Damian focuses on her. "Promise me you'll put us behind you. That you'll leave what happened between you and me in the past. Get over it; come to terms with it. And keep moving on." She locks eyes with him, intense green reminding him that Lindsay has brilliant blue eyes. It's one of the first things Damian noticed. It set her apart.

"I promise."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Math and relationships: one's logical and the other is anything but. Guess which? _

_So I hope you haven't all jumped ship on me. It's been too long since the last update, but I'm finishing up midterms and I GOT A 100% ON MY ANATOMY MIDTERM! THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I'VE EVER GOTTEN A 100% IN COLLEGE! I definitely deserve it, since I've poured my life and soul into this class every single day of the past two weeks (also why I haven't been writing)._

_But anyways, in apology for making y'all wait so long, this chapter just over 4000 words (whew!) Thanks to all of you who've stuck with me! So, this story is sitting at just over 90,000 words and has 860 reviews; you don't know how happy this makes me! And I promise, __**when you all reach 1000 reviews, I'll write another double-post**__ (or at least try to post at a reasonable time)! _

_Gah, I hoped that wrapped up the Ashley subplot. I don't intend to visit Damian's past again, unless this doesn't make sense. From now on, it'll just be Damian's future (with Lindsay hopefully… only time will tell.) __Glee__-__TGP__ integration continuing with Matheus and Sam… also shifting the focus to Emily-Ellis-Sunshine. And a bunch of other people. On the other hand, Project GCAMBT will have to wait just a little bit longer!_

_Thank you all for being so patient… but now I must return to school :( _


	29. Moving On I

_A/N: Whew... It's been a while. but I miss you you all (and I hope y'all missed me!) I think it's time for a recap!_

* * *

><p><strong>Last time on <strong>_**Glee Project: Live Out Loud**_**…**

**Marissa and Cameron resolve their feelings (NOT); directly afterwards, Marissa goes out for the first time in a long time and has **_**fun**_**, even if it is with a particularly charming boy by the name of Bryce. However, investigations by Marissa's Glee friends seem to reveal another side to Bryce, and, wanting to prevent another heartbreak, they plan to direct her back to Cameron. Project GCAMBT continues…**

**At the Rachel Berry House Party Trainwreck Extravaganza, relationships are made and broken. **

**Rachel and Quinn's rivalry takes an interesting turn after a very, very drunk kiss that both enjoy thoroughly. After repeated rebuffs by Finn, Rachel's curious and open to see where this will leave… but Quinn is very much the opposite. Unable to confide in anybody, not even Hannah, all Quinn can do is keep her head high.**

**Sam finds out that Quinn has been cheating on him with Finn, breaks up with her, and hooks up with resident naughty girl Santana. At the same time, under the influence of alcohol and memories of a past time, Sam almost kisses Matheus. The lapse in his judgment leads him to sleep with Santana and push Matheus away.**

**Matheus, unaware of Sam's feelings, is hurt by Sam's harsh words. Also, despite his wishes to turn his friendship with Sunshine into something more, Sunshine doesn't appear to be interested. Having made a friend in Ellis, Sunshine is heavily involved in Project GCAMBT as their inside girl. **

**Ellis and Emily are roommates at Dalton Academy's Catholic sister school; Emily has a history with a particular Bryce and is perfectly willing to help out with Project GCAMBT. **

**Hannah spearheads Project GCAMBT, but her efforts are increasingly hindered by her feelings for Cameron. She confides in Quinn, who encourages her to tell him up straight. However, not wanting to hurt herself when he obviously loves somebody else, Hannah hides her affections and continues on with Project GCAMBT. **

**Damian is also an integral part of Project GCAMBT, and, despite not knowing Cameron very well, helps him out because Damian himself is also going through relationship trouble. After an initial attraction to a soccer player, Lindsay, due to her striking likeness to his ex, Ashley, Damian eventually develops true feelings for her and her differences from Ashley. Lindsay has also shown interest in him, but, after misinterpreting an intimate hug between Damian and Marissa, Lindsay cuts Damian out of her life. She tells Samuel of her intentions when he asks. Damian finally resolves his past relationship with Ashley and is ready to start with Lindsay, only to be flat out ignored. **

**Also, Brittany still has a crush on Damian; and after losing Santana's companionship to Sam, Brittany renews her efforts to seduce the Irishman.**

**Mike and Tina still hold Glee's record for longest-lasting relationship. And that's saying something. Artie is unhappily single. Kurt finds himself attracted to Blaine, who also happens to be Cameron's roommate, and attracted to the idea of a bully-free school. Dave Karofsky drives him even closer to this possibility with his targeted hazing, which finds its root in unresolved feelings.**

… **I think that's it! That was as much as a refresher course for me as it was for your benefit. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"My life is over!" Rachel wails as she screams hoarsely into what might be her pillow. Marissa can't tell.<p>

"...How did you get my number?" Marissa asks tentatively.

Rachel sniffles. "As... as McKinley High's official Glee club representative, I-I have access to all the rec-c-cords..."

"Oh god. Are you crying? Please don't cry."

"You have to understand, Marissa! Singing is my life! It's all I've ever been and it's all I ever will be. Even since I was young, my dads have instilled within me the overwhelming—"

"Rachel," Marissa interrupts firmly. "What's wrong?"

"Yes, yes, you're quite right. I should calm down and focus myself. After all, I did call you for a reason. I... I would like you to be my understudy."

Marissa pauses. "Are you sick? Your voice..."

"I have laryngitis," Rachel croaks pitifully. "My vocal range has been wrecked over completely. But we've put so much effort into _Rocky Horror_ and the show must go on, so I've made an executive decision to appoint you as Janet."

Marissa's head spins. Normally, she'd jump at the opportunity, but she holds back. "I appreciate the gesture, Rachel, but why me? Why not Mercedes, or Quinn, or somebody else who's been in the club longer than I have?"

"No, it has to be you," Rachel insists. "What Sunshine said the other day has got me thinking: we need to introduce new blood into the club, and Mr. Schuester really doesn't know anything other than my beautiful voice. And I have seen you before in theater productions; you have a firm grasp on emoting while singing and I believe you would be the perfect temporary substitute."

Marissa's heart flutters in excitement. She's finally getting recognized for her talent! Rachel, the leader of the Glee club, is basically giving her the role of Janet. She's been considering dropping out of the Glee club for about a week now—she hasn't been giving enough time to Environmental Club and the International Club, and she doesn't need the drama that's always present in the Glee Club. But if they—or, at least Rachel—is willing to recognize her, Marissa might reconsider.

"I'll do it," she agrees.

* * *

><p>Quinn doesn't like the looks Rachel has been giving her over the past week. Furtive, simpering, mysterious, flirtatious—the girl can communicate a million emotions with just one glance. And every time Rachel shoots her one of those looks, Quinn looks away. Because even she knows that, through the haze of alcohol, she enjoyed the kiss. She kissed a girl... and she liked it. Soft skin, red lips, the whole deal.<p>

She calls Hannah by default. They talk for maybe an hour or two—mostly about trivial things, but when it comes to unearthing her secret, this biggest, newest insecurity, Quinn chickens out. No, Hannah's a good friend and a good listener, but Quinn's too strong to admit herself so weak and unsure about something she discovered while hopelessly drunk and angry at Puck, at Sam, at Santana, at her stretch marks and the loss of her perfect body and social status, at her life in general. She doesn't tell Hannah anything important and hangs up, feeling unfulfilled.

So she calls up Finn next, invites him over and takes him just a little past second base that night; she takes in all his hard angles and convinces herself that this is it. This is all she wants.

And the next day she makes sure Rachel gets slushied thoroughly, one facial for every suggestive look the girl sends her way.

* * *

><p>Kurt can't stop thinking about Blaine. He's seen so many aspects of him: sympathetic understanding when they first met, a wild party streak when they went clubbing, and the loyal presence of a friend when confronting Karofsky and taking him out for coffee yesterday. Kurt has no doubt about it; he wants to be with Blaine. They've already set up weekly coffee dates; Kurt can't wait till next Tuesday.<p>

* * *

><p>"Hell to the NAW," Mercedes literally screeches when Rachel announces Marissa's new position of "understudy" the next day. She gets Marissa's her face, furiously declaring, "Listen to me, sister. I've heard your pipes, but there ain't no way you're taking this from me. I been here twice as long as you have—"<p>

Kurt jumps to his best friend's defense while trying to calm her rage. "Mercedes_ is_ one of this club's original members," he argues while tugging on the back of Mercedes' shirt. "And she has one of the most amazing voices here, but everybody just seems to forget about her when it comes to opportunities for solos. It's just not fair."

Rachel's voice still carries over everybody else, despite the hoarseness of laryngitis involved. "I still believe that Marissa would be the best understudy for the role. While seniority is a noble cause for solos, showcasing new blood is also an important part of this club that we can't forget about."

Mercedes whirls on Rachel in the audience. "And she can sing whatever the hell she wants somewhere in the background. If you can't be Janet, then why are you still trying to steal the spotlight—"

Marissa buries her face in her hands; it's only now that she fully realizes that Rachel's using her.

_Temporary substitute._ That's what Rachel said earlier. It implies that Rachel expects the lead role back when her voice returns. Maybe the reason why Rachel wants Marissa to take a leading role instead of another club diva is because Mercedes probably won't relinquish the position when Rachel returns; whereas Marissa will give up the position easily.

The thought that Rachel is using her to manipulate the entire hierarchy of the Glee club makes her sick. She's already got enough drama between her and Cameron; even though they resolved their feelings, she still feels awkward around Hannah and Damian. They'd orchestrated Cameron's huge apology performance, after all. They had expectations… and she didn't fulfill them. So now there's an uncomfortable gap between her and all her friends in the Glee Club; but she's not willing to give up Bryce. He dropped by for a surprise visit a couple days ago; he had some errands to run in Lima, and afterwards they went on a friendly date to the Human Bean and talked for over an hour. He's suave, charming, and perceptive; she feels comfortable around him, and she's not going to give up what she has with him just because her other friends want something else. If that comes at the price of misplaced disappointment on the part of her Glee Club friends… well maybe, she'll give them time to see things from _her_ point of view. This is her life, after all.

She catches Rachel's eye. "Forget about it, I'm not going to sing." And she promptly walks out of the auditorium.

Once again, Damian is the first one to run after her. "Marissa!"

This time, though, she doesn't wait for him. She made her decision and she isn't going to let anybody persuade her. Especially Damian, who, despite being only a pseudo-boyfriend, is most likely make her reconsider. So she just keeps walking away from him, hoping he'll leave her alone.

Of course he doesn't. Damian runs around her and blocks her way.

"We're not supposed to be talking," she mutters, trying to step around him.

"Bull," Damian replies, then tries to soften his voice. "Forget about what everybody else thinks happened between us." He takes her by the shoulders. "How are you doing?"

Marissa keeps her face neutral. "Fine. I'm fine."

Damian searches her eyes, and she resists the urge to look away. _Please, I need time to think._

"I called you Friday night," he says softly.

Marissa stiffens, and Damian feels it through his fingers. "I was... busy," she defends herself.

For just a second, Marissa's afraid that he's going to pursue the that he's going to question why she went dancing with Bryce directly after talking with Cameron. Doesn't she care about how Cameron feels about her? Why is she avoiding Hannah and Damian?

She laughs at herself humorlessly. Even though she meant to project those questions onto Damian, they just became her own traitorous thoughts.

Damian seems to sense her barriers coming up and doesn't pursue the topic. Instead, using the hands still on her shoulders, he pulls her into a sudden hug. "I don't claim to know better than you... but I hope you know what you're doing," he says softly.

Marissa is shocked in silence momentarily. Even without his leather jacket, the scent of him brings comforting memories. But it's wrong. They're not together, and she's got to keep up appearances. If anybody were to see them... it's almost 4pm, and most of the school clubs should be releasing their students for sports activities soon. And anyways, she's with Bryce.

No she isn't, she sharply reminds herself. Just friends.

Because of her internal struggle, she doesn't have time to be indignant. To push him away and tell him off for stepping over boundaries. It's a defense mechanism; she can't have him trying to pry her open and lay her bare and vulnerable again. Only she can open herself up to somebody... and it's not going to be Damian, and definitely not Cameron.

He must have sensed the tenseness in her entire body, because he releases her before she can lash out at him to keep him away. He doesn't apologize though, just holds his palms up in a gesture of surrender. "Do what feels right," he counsels. "Follow your heart."

She still feels like she has to defend herself. "What would you know about following your heart?" She regrets her words the minute they leave her mouth. She doesn't want anybody prying into her personal affairs, yet the next second she whirls around and tries to crack Damian open by attacking him where he's vulnerable. For the entire five weeks she pseudo-dated him, he was numb—he had trouble forming deep-seated attachments to anybody. Maybe it was because of his first girlfriend, or maybe it was just because he didn't actually love her when they were fake-dating. But in general, though he made friends, he never sought to deepen those connections. So what would he know about matters of the heart?

The expression on his face confirms her suspicions, but it isn't a look of hurt that appears. He simply nods. "I don't know," he admits. "But I'm doing to do that right now."

* * *

><p>Ellis sips coffee casually at a lone table in the corner of <em>The Human Bean<em>, the coffee shop halfway between St. Mary's and Dalton Academy, while she waits for a certain somebody to turn up.

Exactly four minutes late, Sunshine Corazon troops into the shop. Ellis waves her over.

"Thanks for meeting with me!" the little Asian girl thanks, sitting across from Ellis. "Have you told Emily yet?"

"Straight to the point," Ellis smiles. "Not even a _How are you_?"

"Our club is putting on a PG-13 version of the Rocky Horror Show," Sunshine answers, "So that's where I've been for the past two weeks. We're showing this weekend actually, if you'd like to come. But anyways, as the understudy, Marissa has been cast as Janet since our female lead came down with laryngitis, so she's going to be occupied until next week." Sunshine pauses. "Oh, you wanted _me _to ask _you_ how you were." Ellis nods in humor, and Sunshine folds her hands neatly on the tabletop. "How are you doing, Ellis?"

"I am also doing fine. My first round of exams just happened, so I'm a little brain dead. Not because I did poorly, but because Emily won't stop freaking out. She likes getting good grades, but she never studies until the morning before. She still somehow lands in the B range though. It doesn't make sense. Anyways, because we're all under a lot of stress, I haven't given Emily all the details yet, although I did let slip about our alliance."

"That's good," Sunshine nods. "I actually wanted to tell you to hold off on most of the details and keep things on a need-to-know basis. It's just a precaution, but it also keeps actors in line."

Ellis frowns. "I get the whole keeping-in-character thing, but this isn't acting. Not for Emily."

"That probably wasn't the right word to use," Sunshine ponders. "But it just seemed to convey my meaning better. Sometimes it's easier though, when there's less information to process. Decisions and actions are easier. Too much information can be bad if you don't know how to handle it. Do you get what I mean?"

Ellis nods. "So what can I tell Emily?"

* * *

><p>Damian approaches the bus seat next to Samuel, but he can't avoid sitting on his friend's haphazardly sprawled limbs. Despite the chill weather, Coach still pushed them until all they could do was stand under the cold water and let the sweaty heat drain away. Even now, Damian and Samuel still wear their soccer shorts and T-shirts while everybody else bundles up in sweaters and scarves and jeans. Samuel has his headphones jammed over his ears and doesn't hear Damian approach. "Samuel," Damian murmurs, but Samuel doesn't move over to make room for him. Figuring Samuel must have dropped off to sleep or simply shut himself off in his world of music, Damian pushes Samuel's arm off the adjacent seat. However, Samuel grins, his eyes still closed, and plants his appendage firmly.<p>

Damian groans. "Seriously, Samuel," he hisses as the bus begins to move. He'd rather sit with a friend than a complete stranger, even if the both of them just plug in their music and ignore each other. Funny how things work that way.

Samuel moves his arm, but just for a moment. As soon as Damian plops down in the open seat, Samuel's hand crawls its way onto Damian's shoulder, up to his face, down the curve of his jaw, across his neck, and finally hooks his thumb in the collar of Damian's shirt. Damian manages a lighthearted tone when he chuckles in embarrassment, "What is this? The world's most awkward half-hug?"

Of course, Samuel doesn't hear him. His headphones completely engulf his ears, shutting him off from the world. When Damian wraps his hand around Samuel's wrist to remove it, though, Samuel twists his hand around to grab Damian's instead. He then yanks Damian's entire body towards him, wraps his other arm around Damian's neck in an inescapable headlock, and proceeds to give him the titty twister of a lifetime. Damian bites back the vociferous cuss-storm threatening to explode from his lips, instead reaching around to grab and yank a couple of Samuel's dreads. The next couple seconds involve a lot of awkward body contact and crazed grins and deadly silence before Samuel gives up first, relinquishing his grip on Damian's nipple. Damian bounces back to his seat, releasing his hold on Samuel's hair, and the two sit in silence for a moment, nursing their wounds.

Damian yanks off Samuel's headphones. "What the f*** was that for?" he hisses, his palms protecting potential attack points.

Samuel rubs the sore spot of pulled hair. "Just making sure you love me enough to want to sit with me again next time." Samuel eyes Damian's hand placements. "Well don't you look scandalous."

"Scandalized, more like," Damian mutters, still keeping his hands firmly in place.

Samuel shifts. Damian notices immediately than Samuel doesn't plug himself back into his music, but sits there contemplatively, staring out the bus window. Damian resists plugging his music in as well; if Samuel wants to talk, sure, Damian will listen.

"Hey, man, something on my mind's been bugging me for the past couple days," Samuel finally speaks, playful demeanor gone.

Damian wonders at the magnitude of what Samuel's thinking about, because the guy seems to drop into this alternate persona: moodier, ponderous, darker. "What's up?"

"You and Lindsay," Samuel states firmly. "What's going on between you two?"

Damian's heart sinks. He knows Lindsay's been pulling away, but he doesn't know why. If he unintentionally hurt her, he certainly didn't mean to. But Samuel and McKynleigh are Lindsay's best friends, so of course they'd pick up on something sooner or later. And now that Damian thinks about it, McKynleigh has been a little more distant. Damian doesn't know what to make of it, except McKynleigh supports Lindsay. And Samuel? Samuel's been Damian's soccer buddy since that first day on the field, when Brittany talked to Coach and Damian showed skill even in street clothes... but Samuel's known Lindsay longer.

"I don't know," he confesses. "She's sending me mixed messages." Samuel looks out the bus window. Did he say something wrong?

"Let me say this straight," Samuel sighs. "Do you like her or not?"

Damian replies just as bluntly. "Yes."

"Then why are you messing around with that other girl?"

This shocks Damian speechless. After a moment, he replies, "How...?"

Samuel's entire face collapses at the confirmation. "You can't be serious, Damo," Samuel groans. "Fooling around with two girls? Lemme tell you, man, you just got yourself into a load of shit. If you're really into cuddling with redheads, then lay off Lindsay, cause she knows."

Damian's mouth won't keep up with his mind, but eventually he gets a word in. "Marissa?" he interjects incredulously.

Samuel misinterprets Damian's tone as defiant, and his temper explodes. "I can't tell you what to do with your life, Damian, unless it's tearing down somebody else's. Man, you have no idea how, every time you go near Lindsay, you just keep breaking her heart over and over again."

"No, we—"

Samuel keeps plowing on. "And you just keep going after her like you're the victim and she's being the heartless bitch trampling all over somebody's heart. Get a grip, Damo. I thought you were better than this."

"Shut up!" Damian roars, then quiets when a million eyes focus on him. "I am not in a relationship with Marissa," he hisses. "We never dated. We're just close friends."

"At the carnival. You were holding her. And we all know how you hate physical contact."

Damian stops up short. Damn. Of course. He hadn't thought about it then, he'd just been comforting a friend who needed him. And of course Lindsay or McKynleigh or Samuel would come looking for him after he ran off. And what they saw... "That..." Damian struggles to find words. "I was... She needed me... so I was there for her. That's all. I don't know how I can assure you that it was just between friends... but we _are _just friends." Damian clenches his head between his hands in distress. "Damn. Damn damn damn. So Lindsay's avoiding me because of Marissa... But if she just told me..."

"I want to believe you, Damo," Samuel sighs. "I really..."

Damian looks up at Samuel fiercely. "I really like Lindsay. It's not something I've realized until recently, but I would never want to hurt her."

"Too late for that, bro."

"I know. She doesn't have time anymore and when she does come around, she won't even look at me. But today, I was going to tell her. I resolved my problems and I was going to come clean to her." He grabs Samuel's shoulder in urgency. "You know her—will she listen to me? Will she—"

Samuel shakes her head. "You haven't noticed? She's stubborn. Tenacious. She's already headed down the path she chose—the one that doesn't include you—and she's not looking back."

The bus pulls up to the bus terminal. Damian and Samuel jump off in silence and stand across from each other. Samuel risks a glance at Damian's expression and is surprised to see an expression he'd never expected to see on Damian's face off the field-stubborn determination twists his usually complacence.

"Back off, dude," he warns. "You're only going to hurt yourself. And her."

"No," Damian growls, recalling something Cameron told him once in a Skype conversation. "Better to have said something and lost than to have not said anything at all."

"It's your funeral," Samuel sighs, but then he claps Damian on the back. "That's my little lion man."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_I'm back! I've got my feet back in relation to this story; I know where I want it to go and what's going to happen with who. In other words, updates are back! _

_Not for long, though, and definitely not as frequently as every week. I've reached the home stretch in terms of the school semester, and that means all-nighters and studying and not a lot of anything else. Writing will resume in two weeks at the earliest._

_Man, it's been such a long time since The Glee Project. We catch glimpses of Rory and Harmony, but I'm sorely missing people like Hannah and Cameron and Marissa. Even people like McKynleigh and, on a side note, Sunshine (hey, Sam Evans is back… why not Sunshine Corazon? Meh, my shameless plug.)_

_Speaking about shameless plugs, I'm writing another Glee story, "Family Above Cell 25", this one focusing on the main cast (though I plan to include Damian and Cameron at some later point) and with supernatural elements. I plan on writing "Family" and "GP:LOL" at the same time, so you might as well read both :) _Take the time to check it out and review, please!_ _


	30. Moving On II

_Featured Songs__:  
><em>"Someday" by Nickelback<em>_

* * *

><p>Sam shouldn't feel any different. Santana is just as good as a kisser as she was yesterday, and her passion brings back vivid memories of a couple nights ago. Whether she's in the choir room singing sultrily, in the astronomy classroom sucking his face off, in the locker room yelling at another Cheerio to fetch her a slushie, or in the bedroom going down on him in ways he never knew were possible, Santana brings the same passion, the same 100% no-holds-barred effort.<p>

No, Santana hasn't changed. Sam has. He sees Matheus in the halls and he wonders what might have been if they'd met in another place. A certain all boys' boarding school in California, for example. A certain dorm with a certain charming boy who took Sam under his wing and took him everywhere. A certain night, alone in their dorm room, when this certain boy stole Sam's first kiss.

Sam remembers and swore never to feel that way again. It's just wrong. They only did it because they were horny teenagers cooped up in an all-male school with no exposure to the fairer sex. Sam had been young and fresh and innocent and naïve, and this certain boy just… thought he was close enough to a girl, or something.

The only problem is that he sees Matheus and his heart does this funny jig.

He's sitting on Santana's bed. Santana sashays up to him, crawling seductively onto the mattress on her hands and knees and stalking over him. Everything about her is sensual, from the way her ass sways back and forth as she inches forward, to the way her wild eyes rake slowly over his body, to the way he can see _straight down her shirt_ and then she's kissing him softly and lowering her soft body directly onto his. Sam's heart flutters as they kiss, as she settles onto him and pulls her hair loose of its high ponytail so that her soft raven hair falls around their faces in a dark curtain.

He tries to forget Matheus; he'd been so close to Matheus' face at Rachel's party, close enough to imagine the feel of his lips against his own, close enough to thread his fingers through Matheus' dark hair—

No, he's kissing Santana. It's Santana's lips that moan his name softly. It's Santana's hands that are pushing his shirt up so she can feel his abs. And it's Santana's breath that is hot and wet in the crook of his neck.

Just briefly, he wonders how he would manage any of this with Matheus, since Matheus is about a head and a half shorter. They could make it work…

And then Santana's going down on him and he can't think about anything else.

* * *

><p>Matheus leans forward, his eyes shining. "Sunshine… You are the brightest part of my day. Every time you walk into a room, you light it up with your cheerfulness. And the world is just that much of a better, warmer place when you're there. I can't help but feel warm and cozy inside whenever you smile at me, and I want to make you feel the same way I do. I am so in love with you, Sunshine Corazon; I am crazy in love with you, because —"<p>

"Practicing with the dog again?"

Matheus flushes in embarrassment. "Mom… you made me lose track!"

In front of him, Daisy rolls onto her back and looks up at Matheus pitifully.

"Okay, fine, girl. You want your tummy rubbed?"

Daisy whines and twitches her paws.

"I'll take that as a yes." As he strokes her fuzzy belly, Matheus continues to voice his thoughts out loud. "Sunshine… she's something. She's just so… effervescent. You know what that means? She's bubbly. She's always happy—and even more, she's just a nice person in general. You know that Mr. Schue offered her a solo this week? But she knew Mercedes wanted it, so she made up a stupid excuse and gave it to Mercedes. That's how awesome she is. She deserves a lot more, but she's too nice.

"But nobody appreciates her. She's small, but she's better than Rachel. Well, maybe not better. Different. She's better than Rachel in some areas—man can she belt. Sunshine belts maybe as well as Mercedes. But Mercedes does more sassy diva-ish songs, and Rachel's like all-out Broadway, and Santana is sultry Amy Winehouse, and then Sunshine is like powerful, emotional Celine Dion maybe. The point is, nobody sees her and how awesome she is… except me.

"And I think she should stand up for herself. I think she should fight just as hard as everybody else for ballad solos. She deserves to be recognized.

"Even if she isn't recognized, though, I still want to be there for her. I want to be there to support her… and I want her to lean on me. We're already pretty close friends, so it's just another step, right? But she doesn't seem to know… so I've just got to tell her. The problem is, I don't want to ruin what we have already. It's like we were made for each other. I've only known her a couple months, but I can read her instantly and she always knows what to say to me. That's a connection I've never had with anybody else…"

Daisy whimpers and rolls over. Matheus immediately moves to scratching her ear.

"…Well, except for you. See? You like getting your ear scratched, huh? Anyways, I have this opportunity to get even closer to this girl I really like, but I'm not sure if she likes me back." He leans in closer and whispers, "Don't tell Mom this, okay? I got a little drunk at Rachel's party and kissed Sunshine. …I think I might have kissed somebody else… somebody blonde… but I seriously don't remember. But the main thing is, we played spin-the-bottle and I got to kiss Sunshine! Only thing is, she didn't kiss me back. I felt so weird and embarrassed. It was nothing like I wanted it to be. It was like sucking on a pair of limp… you know what, I'm not going to finish that sentence. She doesn't seem to remember our kiss, but I still remember how stupid I felt. So, the problem is, what if she doesn't like me back? What if I ask her out and she says no and then we just have this really awkward gap between us? What if we can't be best friends anymore just because of my stupid feelings?"

Daisy's tongue lolls out the side of her mouth as she pushes into Matheus' hand. Matheus resumes scratching her neck.

"Oh, that's right. You don't talk. You don't even understand me, do you?"

No response.

"Yeah. I thought so. Gosh, I feel so stupid. I'm sharing my feelings with my dog."

A whine.

Matheus sighs and resumes tummy-rubbing. "Who's a good puppy? Who's a good doggie?"

* * *

><p>Unfortunately for Damian, Lindsay doesn't appear at dinner. Damian makes Samuel wait at least twenty minutes before reluctantly following the older boy outside. However, just as he's about to sling his stuff into the bed of Samuel's truck, Lindsay pulls up in her little car.<p>

"Lindsay!" Damian exclaims, pulling his stuff out of Samuel's car. He looks over his shoulder at his friend, who winks, shoots him a thumbs up, and walks back towards the house again.

Damian rushes over to Lindsay's car. She looks completely different—straightened hair that falls softly around her shoulders, full, glossy red lips, shining blue eyes accented with mascara and eyeliner and eye shadow, gigantic hoop earrings, and tight-fitting, fashionable clothing. She's so different that Damian almost doesn't recognize her—except she spots him, and a shadow passes over her already tired face. Still, he wants to talk to her so badly that impulsively moves to block the driver's door, preventing her from getting out.

"Please, Lindsay, I've got to talk to you," he says breathlessly while leaning against the car roof, his soccer bag slung over his shoulder. If he can't talk to her in her own home… "Could you drive me back to Lima?"

Lindsay looks in alarm at Samuel, just as he waves and disappears through the front door. "Look, I'm really tired…" she says, opening the door. Damian plants his feet, though, and she can't open it more than a couple inches. She huffs in frustration. "Damian, I just got back from practice. Besides, doesn't Samuel usually give you a ride?"

Damian glances at her fancy clothes and her makeup; definitely not soccer practice. "Please, Lindsay. I...I've missed you. Driving me home."

Lindsay squirms uncomfortably, but in purposeful tactlessness, Damian refuses to budge. A few awkward moments pass, with Damian staring Lindsay down; in an inversion of personalities, Damian tenaciously holds his ground while Lindsay fidgets and tries to skirt around the issue.

Finally, Lindsay's face relaxes just barely. "Okay," she mumbles. Damian runs excitedly over to the passenger side, tossing his bag in the back. He settles into the passenger seat and buckles in as Lindsay pulls out of the driveway and begins to speed down the road in the direction of Lima.

For the first five minutes, Lindsay answers monosyllabically to Damian's attempts at conversation. He's not comfortable diving directly into the hard stuff, but she's not participating in casual conversation that he can use to transition. Finally, when she pulls onto the highway, he turns to face her fully.

"I'm tired of this," he states bluntly. "We're not communicating anymore, and there's been a lot of misunderstanding between us because nobody bothered telling the other person what they're thinking."

Lindsay's face goes blank. Just like Marissa's. Maybe it's a defense mechanism shared by theater kids. From his experience with Marissa earlier this afternoon, Damian almost doesn't want to pry—but then he reminds himself that there is much more at stake with Lindsay.

"What?" Lindsay asks carefully.

He wishes she would look him in the eye; but no, of course she has to keep her eyes on the road. Maybe this idea wasn't thought out very well. Actually, he hadn't planned it out at all "I'm not dating Marissa," he states. "She's a good friend, and she went through a rough time a couple weeks ago. I was trying to help her out—"

"Stop."

"What?"

"You heard me," Lindsay says casually, but with a hint of steel. "We don't need to talk."

"Lindsay, we do need to talk."

The car accelerates; she's driving recklessly, weaving around slower cars in an aggressive rampage similar to Brittany. It's evening time, and the darkness makes the ride even scarier. Damian reels in a brief moment of reflexive panic.

"Let's just stop talking," Lindsay says. "Before anybody gets hurt. …Hurt even more than they already are. Because everybody knows how much you've already hurt me. Oh, that's right, everybody knows but _you_."

Something dangerous glints in her eyes as streetlights illuminate both their faces at faster intervals.

"I'm sorry," Damian immediately answers. "I'm sorry for hurting you, but this is all a misunderstanding. Marissa is a close friend of mine, but Lindsay, you've always been the one I l—"

"WHOA no, you're not going where I think you're going," Lindsay suddenly yelps, shoving a finger into Damian's face while keeping her eyes on the road. "Don't pull that on me."

"What?"

"Those three words. They mean nothing to me. NOTHING. Okay, Damian. I tried. We could have just parted ways as nice acquaintances—"

"Lindsay, I'm trying to tell you—"

Her silencing finger is in his face again; her fingernail is perfectly rounded and painted. Since when did Lindsay become a girly girl? "Shut up," she almost snarls. "You opened this can of worms, so now you get to sit still and listen to why I. Don't. Care.

"You don't know how much you've hurt me, Damian. I might have fallen for your charm on a stupid whim, but I know better now. Because I _know_ you. I know that, for you, a hug means much more than it does to Samuel or Miki. You don't like getting close to people, physically or emotionally. Maybe it's because you're an asocial hermit, or maybe it's because you've been hurt too many times to count. Either way, you've let Marissa into your lonely circle because she's special to you. Somewhere deep in your heart, you'll always have this special little place for her. That's why you could hold her for ten minutes straight without freezing up."

She pauses just long enough for Damian to dive in. "You're really overthinking—"

"Okay, I'll admit, I've spent way too many nights staring at the ceiling and thinking about you. Thinking about this, and why you want to hurt me."

"How could you say that? I'd never want to hurt you!"

"But that's the point! You don't know me! You don't _know _me! You don't understand that, in everything I do, I give it my all. When I commit myself to somebody, they're going to be the only person in the world who will have 100% of me. **And I expect the same from them.**

"You. You had something with Marissa. I saw it. Bullshit, you're just friends. That's the oldest trick in the book, and hell if I'm stupid enough to fall for that again. And then you turn around and flirt with me. There's so many problems with that. Excluding all the problems that arise when Marissa loses you, there's also the fact that **you cannot handle two girls at once.** It is physically and emotionally impossible. They will find out. All hell breaks loose. One ends up broken, the other wounded. And you, the promiscuous male? You just go on to break more hearts.

"I can't get involved in that. I can't give myself to somebody, only to have them throw me on the ground, accidentally or in full knowledge, and trample all over me so they can go frolic with some other slut."

"I'm sorry?" Damian's Irish blood threatens to boil over. "Did you just call Marissa a slut?"

"No! I… That was a hypothetical example!" Lindsay backpedals, but it does little to calm Damian down. She just ripped him a new hole with her tirade, and finishes it by insulting both him and Marissa. He's surprised to find such a fiery, corrosive personality underneath her usually bright, cheerful mask.

He's also regretting asking her for a ride.

"You know what?" Damian reacts defensively. "I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to set things straight. I didn't want to sit here and listen to your verbal abuse."

"_Abuse?"_ Lindsay practically screeches. "Damian, for somebody who's been dishing out a lot of it, you don't know the first thing about abuse. Physical, or psychological, or verbal."

"Are you seriously implying that I have represented all of these in my interactions with you?" Damian questions stiffly.

"NO. No—god, why are you… are you trying to misinterpret me? No, you've put me through a lot of pain recently, but it's nothing compared to what—you know, forget I said that. We're heading down a dangerous road—"

"—And with the recklessness you're driving, we'll probably die before we ever get to Lima."

Lindsay slams on the brakes, dropping 20mph back to the speed limit. "I'm not going down this path with you," she finishes. "I've chosen my own road, and it doesn't involve you." Abruptly, she reaches over and turns up the radio full volume.

_How the hell did we wind up like this? Why weren't we able  
>To see the signs that we missed and try to turn the tables?<br>Now the story's played out like this, just like a paperback novel;  
>Let's rewrite an ending that fits instead of a Hollywood horror.<em>

_Nothing's wrong, just as long as you know that someday I will..._  
><em>Someday, somehow, I'm gonna make it all right but not right now.<em>  
><em>I know you're wondering when...<em>

With a thousand words left to say, Damian reaches to turn it back off; but Lindsay slaps his hand away. "DRIVER CHOOSES THE STATION," she says carelessly, as if they were just friends squabbling over music. Damian almost punches something in frustration. They both sit in utter silence for the next twenty minutes as the radio drowns them both.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_I'm done with finals, and definitely plan on writing lots this break :) _

_And WOW! 900 reviews! I am so grateful to everybody who's contributed to all 98,000 words of this fanfiction. So close to 100,000 - this is seriously the largest story I've ever written. Thanks for all of your support through all of it!_

_Now I'm going to help friends move out, hang out with friends coming back into town from college, listen to Michael Buble's Christmas album and watch the snow fall outside... ahhhh, winter break. See you in a couple days. Please review?_


	31. Moving On Without You

Samuel is sitting on the couch when McKynleigh enters Lindsay's house's living room. "Where's Lindsay?" she asks uncertainly; the girl had said she wanted to talk. "Her car isn't even here yet, and she left before me."

Samuel tucks a dread behind his ear, typing up something on his laptop. He barely glances up when he replies, "She sent Damian back home."

McKynleigh is shocked speechless. As far as she knows, Lindsay is done with Damian. However charming he is (and fun to listen to; McKynleigh could sit and listen to the Irish brogue for an hour), Lindsay had been very firm about cutting Damian out of her life. With her history, McKynleigh understands Lindsay's hesitance—it's just that she might be overreacting.

But then again, Damian still has his own problems—his girlfriend might be cheating on him with Bryce.

Why is everybody she knows mixed up in huge twisted love polygons? It sucks. And McKynleigh's glad she's not wrapped up in them.

Oh wait, she's best friends with one of tangled lovesick people. Darn.

"Don't you usually send him home? Shouldn't you guys have left before she came back?"

Samuel finally looks up at her. "Nah, Damian wanted to talk to her."

"So… you let Damian get alone in a car with her."

"Yup. Is there a problem with that?"

"Why would you do that?" McKynleigh shouts. "Why would you just stand back and let that happen? For all we—"

Samuel's easygoing personality melts away as he snaps into _intense mode_. "Okay, listen. I consider myself to be a pretty good judge of character. And Damian? He's not Derik."

"No one will ever be an asshole like Derik," McKynleigh retorts. "And Damian is so nice, he has his own special category. I'm not saying it's Damian's problem—it's Lindsay."

Samuel's eyebrows arch. "What?"

"Cooping her up with an issue she's trying to ignore in a tiny space, and forcing her to _talk_ about it while driving? She's probably crashed the car already!" McKynleigh pulls out her phone, then winces and pulls another phone out of her purse. "Dammit! She left her phone behind."

"Don't worry about it. Lindsay's a pretty safe driver."

McKynleigh nails him with a serious glare. "You don't understand. She likes him, but at the same time, she can't. That's why she can't stand to be in the same room as him. She doesn't have the time to get involved with him."

"Yeah, so I heard. She's going to, in her words, 'stop loving.' How ridiculous is that?"

"Would you listen to me? She can't like him because she's committed to something else—"

"And pray tell what this something else is. Lindsay's being pretty mysterious about it, but if you have her phone because she left it behind at practice, then I can probably guess what she's doing. And it's definitely not soccer."

McKynleigh shuts up. "It's not my place to tell."

Samuel suddenly launches his own attack. "That's your problem. You say it's not your place to tell, but it's just because you don't want to get involved, so you hold back until it's too late and everything's already screwed up—"

Derik. It's always Derik. The stupid theater geek who royally screwed up Lindsay's life and, even today, continues to set her up for failure. "If this is about Derik again, then that was—"

"Actually, this is not about Derik. That was a mistake. No, this time, you knew what was going on between Damian and Marissa and Lindsay, but you still didn't do anything. Why?"

"Because, by that time, Lindsay had already made her choice. I'm not going to make her regret it or think twice about it. It can't change."

"You know what? We're not communicating," Samuel exhales in frustration. "You know Lindsay's side of things, and I've got Damian's story. And they're both hurting real bad, because we didn't intervene when we could have." He pats the seat cushion next to his. "Sit down. We're going to talk this through. And we're going to fix this."

"Samuel, Lindsay specifically told me not—"

"Screw her. She doesn't know what's good for her. She's killing herself. It's our jobs as her friends to keep her from hurting herself, even if she tells us not to."

* * *

><p>Brittany doesn't know what to do without Santana. Sure, San's had plenty of boyfriends in the past. And Brittany's had her share of boys and girls and both. But never has Santana scored the most popular guy in the school, the football quarterback. And, apparently this is a big responsibility that requires all of San's time. As a result, Brittany's had to spend whole afternoons by herself, surrounded by stupid people who can't understand her.<p>

Speaking about language barriers, there's another incomprehensible loner like her. A certain Irishman, who, according to her sources, is still single. So screw language barriers. She'll just sing to him or something. Music is the language to the soul, after all.

And if all else fails, sex doesn't need language.

* * *

><p>When did Lindsay become such a bitch? She's talking to <em>Damian<em>. But the words have already been said and she can't take them back. And now that she's got them out in the open, she actually does feel a little relieved. Like there's less of a burden on her back. Because all that she said was true. She's been through the abuse and she can't commit herself to a relationship with Damian until she's sure of his motivations.

Truthfully, she's not too sure now. She'd spent enough sleepless nights thinking about it, constructing entire psychoanalyses of Damian and Marissa and herself and everybody involved. Damian's probably right; she probably did overthink the entire thing. But she made irreversible decisions based off those conjectures, and there's no going back.

It's _impossible_ to go back. Things have already been set in motion and she can't go back to the way things were. All she can do now is continue to barrel down the path she has chosen. And she'd been doing fine, until Damian had insisted on coming back into the picture. Unfortunately, there is no Damian on this path—so she's got to eliminate him. He can't be here.

She's already committed her life to another cause. This cause won't disappoint her, not if she dedicates her all, her 100% to it. That's the difference—even if she completely devotes herself to a person, her heart can—and eventually will—be crushed. A cause, on the other hand, depends solely on her own effort and performance. Only she can let herself down, and she'll know it's her fault if she does. Her success is completely dependent on herself, and not another undependable human being. That's the cause she strives for, and that cause leaves no room for Damian.

So she just let the radio speak volumes between them until they pull up next to Damian's house.

She takes the rest of the trip to compose herself. It's only when she pulls up in front of his house that she turns the radio off and turns toward him. A nearby streetlight casts the barest glow to his face. This is it. This is goodbye.

Her walls crack. This will be the last time she will see him. Maybe they still have a chance to part as friendly acquaintances. They can still part ways on civil terms.

And even if he yells at her, she owes him. After all, it hadn't been more than half an hour ago that she was screaming at him.

It isn't sheepish awkwardness or violent anger that Damian confronts her with; he just looks at her with an unusual intensity. "Are you done?" he murmurs.

Lindsay nods silently.

He leans closer. "I don't love Marissa... even when I was around her, I never thought about her because there was somebody else in the back of my mind. You, Lindsay."

A stab of pain. Lindsay can't commit, can't fall for him, but she can't look away. She finds herself memorizing every feature of his face hungrily. An impulsive decision—why, though? It takes her just a second—because her subconscious has already realized that she wants him too.

But there's only one course of action left to take: complete alienation. This is going to be the last time she sees him. So she drinks him in desperately.

Damian misinterprets her apparent captivation and continues eagerly. "We haven't talked in so long; we haven't communicated anything properly. So I'm going to be very clear when I say this. I don't know what your history is—my own is pretty hard to grasp—but I sorted it out a couple days ago and this is what I came up with." His thumb brushes against her jaw. His fingers rest on the nape of her neck. He pulls her towards him. She lets him. She can't stop. She lets him close the gap and kiss her tenderly.

Oh god. Oh god. Her mind is stuck in a crazy feedback loop, and like a faint noise ever magnified between two echoing microphones. This strange feeling forces its way up from her heart into her mind and overwhelms all rational thought, screaming as she returns his gesture. His hand reaches up through her thick black hair to cradle the back of her head gently as he deepens the kiss, and her fingers find the collar of his shirt, tugging at the cloth to bring him even closer. Warm skin against the flat of her palm. Just the scent of him: warm and suave and masculine. She's fallen for him. Oh god, she's fallen for him. She's hungered for this for so long, needed the comfort and support of another person right next to her. It's been so long since she last was able to let her defenses down and lean on somebody else. So long since she opened herself up to another human being, _really_ opened herself up and shared a part of her heart with someone. Not since Derik…

Not since Derik pulled her around on a leash as his perfect girlfriend, taming her with lighthearted jabs at her physique and looks. He toted her around as a trophy, keeping her quiet and under control with friendly pushes. And suddenly, she found him pushing her around at every opportunity, running her life as an extension of his. She had to break it off before she lost control of it all, but her heart was already in pieces.

The problem was, Lindsay had been _Derik's girlfriend _for so long that she didn't know who she was anymore. She wanted to go back to him and he tried to pull her back in—but it was McKynleigh who kept her afloat during those heartbroken months, and it was Samuel who finally stepped up and intimidated Derik into leaving her alone. Her best friends helped put her back together after she couldn't.

No, she can't do that again. She can't be weak again. She will be strong. She will not give in. She will fight. She will support herself and walk down this path with McKynleigh and Samuel by her side, leaving Damian and Marissa in the dust. She will forget this ever happened. She will succeed. She will lead her team to victory. And it will be because she was strong.

Tears slide down her cheeks. She is so, so, so weak. She can't pull away. She's not strong enough. She's already fallen and she can't get back up. Her heart—her poor, twice-broken heart—wants him to love her and never let her go.

She sobs out loud and breaks their intimate contact. Damian opens his eyes and is shocked at her reaction. Teardrops still leak between her closed eyelids as she pulls away and retreats into herself, covering her face to hide her weakness. "Go," she chokes.

"Lindsay, what's—"

She waves a hand in his general direction, pulling herself together. Pull the acting mask back on; stay strong. Her voice comes out more confident this time. "Just go. Please."

"Lindsay—"

She lashes out. "Get out of my car," she snaps. "Leave. Now."

The car door opens; just the click of the release mechanism breaks her heart. Better now than later. Better now while she's still in control of herself, and not later when Damian hold more of her tender heart in his hand, able to crush it whenever he wants. Shuffling; he's pulling his soccer bag out of the back of her car. The sound of his shoes hitting the pavement outside. Complete silence the entire time, though his injured sorrow screams at her. _Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. _She doesn't need him to tell her—she already screams it at herself. _You don't know the whole story. Please don't judge._ But she judges herself all the time. She will never be alone; her ghosts will always whisper regret in dead silence.

Damian doesn't shut the door. He stands just outside. Lindsay resists the terrible urge to just drive away. The irrational urge niggles at her mind, telling her to enforce her control by not letting him shut the—

Damian leans into the car, and in the complete silence, he puts his everything, absolute sincerity and hopeful longing and all his passion, into three words. "I love you."

She hits the gas, roaring away from curbside and leaving Damian in the dust. She can't even see the road; she drives by instinct, just trying to put as much distance as she can between them as salt water runs down her face in sticky rivulets of half-dissolved makeup.

About a mile later, she runs a red light and almost hits another car. They brake just in time, honking angrily as she zooms past. She pulls over to the side of the road, unable to see much through her tears but aware that she was almost in an accident. As soon as she parks, though, the floodgates open. The tears flow freely down her face, but Miki and Samuel aren't around to comfort her. All she can do is mumble halfhearted pep talks and empty consolations to herself.

Eventually, her words form into the answer to Damian's three words. Those three words shouldn't mean anything to her; Derik said them all the time and Bryce said it once. But those three words mean everything when _he_ says them, and she can only answer:

"I can't."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_I promised you I'd be back in a couple days! And OMG THIS FIC IS OVER 100,000 WORDS LONG. _

_To those wondering, yes, I did incorporate some of the real Lindsay Pearce's experiences with abuse by a previous boyfriend. For some of the characters, I'll be pulling from real-life experiences (Bryce, Emily, Lindsay); others, their pasts are made up by me and, to my knowledge, bear no similarities to their real lives (Cameron, Damian... and pretty much everybody else.)_

__That's Damsay for you. Anybody still in the dark about Lindsay's mysterious activities? What is Damian going to do __when he finds out a certain blond cheerleader has again set her sights on him? Next up, Cameron and Damian hang out at Dalton Academy (shout-out to CP Coulter's Dalton, an incredible AU about Kurt's time at the boarding school); Marissa unexpectedly meets a new friend; and HEY. You find out who was in Blaine's bed in ch18... just sayin'. Stick around for the next update, and please review!__

_Speaking of reviews... special shout-outs to **Mary in the Stars, cowboy-mcginty **(recent username change?), and _**flmnstry **for detailed reviews - those take a while and I appreciate the time spent to detail everything! And also thanks to **The-Riddle-Heiress, Dreamless Sleep22, JoJo127, Team Lindsay, xxBlaineXKurtxx, awooga, **and countless anon reviewers for leaving behind comments. Every one counts, and I'm grateful!__


	32. What Is Love I

_A/N: From now on, I'll put the Featured Songs portion up here, just so you know what's coming :) _

_Featured songs:  
>"Never Gonna Give You Up" by Ricky Astley<br>__"Whip My Hair" by Willow Smith_

* * *

><p>"Who are you, and what have you done with Cam?" Blaine asks in mock-surprise, holding his textbook menacingly above his head. "Tell me or I'll smash your brains out with Calculus."<p>

"Been there, done that," Cameron smiles. "I survived Calculus." His hair has been trimmed down significantly and styled with gel into casual spikes. His ever-present, black-framed glasses have been missing as of last weekend, but his clothing selection has definitely changed, from tank tops to plain V-neck tees. But most of all, he wears a different personality. That's the most shocking thing, but suddenly he swaggers and grins teasingly. It's like he's abandoned his nerd status, the attribute that really defined him previously, and has become like any other guy—definitely attractive, but not in a way that Blaine remembers as distinctly Cameron. It's... different.

Blaine places his textbook back on his desk. "Seriously, what's up?"

"Time for a change," Cameron shrugs, sprawling out onto his bed to study Physics.

"You look like you're about to drop asleep," Blaine teases. "Why don't you study at your desk?"

Cameron barely stifles a yawn. "Laptop's too much of a distraction."

As if right on cue, his Skype begins ringing. Cameron's about to ignore the call when he realizes it's a specialized ring tone: Hannah or Damian.

"Distracting, huh?" Blaine laughs as Cameron leaps out of bed and lands in his office chair, expertly rolling halfway across their dorm room to slide to a neat stop in front of his laptop.

Cameron ignores his roommate in favor of answering the call. It's Damian.

And man, does he look like he's down in the dumps. Cameron's heart sinks; more bad news on Marissa? But he keeps his tone light. "What's up?"

"I would have just texted you, if my mum hadn't forgotten to pay the bill again," Damian explains. "So, um..." In addition to looking glum, he now also looks a bit nervous. "You want to hang out this weekend?"

Cameron doesn't hide the expression of surprise that immediately leaps to his face. He hasn't had much interaction with Damian outside of Marissa-related conversation. It's not like Damian has expressed any interest in strengthening friendship anyways; the guy had seemed content just being acquaintances. "Sure," he says easily, still trying to figure out the logistics of how and where and why—after all, the primary problem is that Damian lives in Lima and Cameron is confined to Dalton Academy in Westerville. But it'll be the weekend, and Cameron has a car. "So maybe I can—"

Damian resolves transportation issues. "My mum's work has a barbeque party at work on Sunday, but she plans on stopping in Westerville to buy party gifts." He blushes a little. "Actually, she wanted to drag me along, but I'd rather..."

"Yeah, got it. I—"

Blaine interrupts. "Not to ruin awesome plans before you make them, but Warblers' practice for Sectionals is this weekend. You know Sectionals is in three weeks, right?"

Cameron rolls his eyes. "As if Wes will ever let us forget. Don't worry," he assures Damian, who's looking uncomfortable. "I still got you. Wanna come hang out at Dalton for a while? I'll give you the grand tour."

Blaine pokes his head into the camera. "You're not another spy, are you? We have a history of spies from Vocal Adrenaline. And we just had one from New Directions."

Cameron pushes the Warblers' lead singer out of the frame. "You're so paranoid, man," he complains. "Besides, you've got something-something going on with the last spy from New Directions."

"Just friends," Blaine grins, playfully shoving Cameron and his wheelie office chair. "Kurt's still finding his place in the world."

* * *

><p>At that moment, Kurt is just picking himself off the floor after another shove. Tina lies next to him; when she tried to help him pick up his books, Karofsky just knocked her over too.<p>

Karofsky, again. It keeps coming back to the Neanderthal who's secretly in the closet yet loves him yet threatens to kill him if Kurt ever tells anybody. Despite death threats, Karofsky still pushes Kurt around like the whole kiss-attack didn't happen—but this time, Kurt notices every touch. Karofsky's hands on the small of his back, lingering a little too long as he pushes Kurt over. A firm grip on his shoulder before moving him aside. It's abusive and longing and messed up.

Tina cups pencils and pens in her fists as she shuffles over to Kurt on her knees. "Your pencil case exploded," she explains. "I'm not sure where it is, but I wanted to get these before they get kicked away."

"Kurt!" Mercedes gasps, bending down next to them. "Are you—"

"Fine," Kurt says, pasting on a smile for her so she doesn't give him her pity face. As one of his closer friends, she directs more attention at him when he's hurt. Funny how he prefers the quieter company of Tina over Mercedes' fussing care.

"Was it Karofsky again? Dear lord, someday I am going to smack that boy around. I will—"

"You losers are gonna be late for practice," Puck scoffs as he passes by them, pushing Artie along. Artie looks at them helplessly as they disappear around a corner.

Kurt's energy deflates as he registers that the Glee Club member with the most social status just ignored his plight. He hates McKinley—everything about it, from homophobic bullies to apathetic bystanders to superficial friends.

Dalton Academy won't be anything like it.

* * *

><p>The Rocky Horror Glee Show comes and goes and is as much of a success that a PG version could be. With Rachel still down with laryngitis and Marissa having officially quit the Glee club, Santana steps up to the plate and saves the day by providing voiceovers for Rachel whenever singing is required. Rachel still recites her lines and acts out Janet with her usual melodrama, though she has to speak into a microphone so she doesn't wear out her voice. Mercedes continues her role as Dr. Frank-N-Furter; Finn plays Brad; Sam as the fully-clothed Rocky; Kurt does a convincingly creepy Riff-Raff alongside Quinn's Magenta; Artie does a good Dr. Scott; and Mike appears as Eddie and ends up chopped meat. The rest attend as partygoers and backup singers.<p>

Their parents come—why would they not?—as well as some friends. Blaine and Cameron and some of his Warblers sit in the center of the auditorium. Ellis has also tagged along, dragging along her roommate Emily; together, their part of the crowd shout the appropriate audience lines, adding to the humor of the show.

Hannah's mom and Sunshine's mom come together with their book club friends, including Rachel's gay dads. Kurt's dad, Burt, and Finn's mom, Carole, sit together proudly. Damian's mom and her four-month boyfriend show up (to Damian's surprise), though they sit in the back and spend more time looking at each other than the show (as Damian expected, though the thought counts).

Marissa sits on the other side of the auditorium, avoiding Cameron and the Warbler suits.

* * *

><p>Before they know it, Sunday is upon them. Damian enters Dalton Academy's main hall and immediately feels out of place. Everybody is dressed in blue blazers, ties, and what appear to be house badges—Damian encounters three different types—and they're all lounging around and looking sophisticated in general.<p>

"Hello… excuse me?" Damian approaches the nearest one, a tall European-type reading a book. "Where can I find the Warblers' Hall?"

The boy looks him up and down, taking in the blue and red striped shirt and jeans. He raises a skeptical eyebrow, and, in a faint cockney accent, asks, "You're not from around here, are you?"

Damian smiles at the first non-American accent he's heard in a couple months (other than his mom's, at least.) "Ireland. I'm Damian."

The boy rolls his eyes. "Justin, prefect of Hanover House. And I mean, you're not attending Dalton. Though points for trying." Again, a pointed look at Damian's weak disguise.

Damian grins sheepishly. "I'm meeting a friend here—Cameron? He said to meet him at the Warblers' Hall, and that most students would know where it is."

"Unless your friend will immediately vouch for you, I'd advise that you not barge in there," Justin warns. "Sebastian doesn't take kindly to spies."

"He said practice would be over at noon… and it's almost noon." Damian taps his wrist watch.

Justin nods once. "Alright. Down that hall," he motions. "Just try not to look too suspicious. Some people are a bit high strung."

Damian treks down into unknown territory—the school architecture has a rustic feel in its design, with warm browns and honey tones everywhere. He hears the acapella beatboxing upon entering a three-story atrium with a domed glass ceiling and a staircase spiraling around the perimeter.

_We're no strangers to love; you know the rules and so do I._  
><em>A full commitment's what I'm thinkin' of; you wouldn't get this from any other guy.<em>  
><em>I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling, gotta make you understand.<em>

Damian follows the music down a hallway full of classrooms; a side hallway opens up into a much larger room. Damian pauses in the doorway just as an African-American backflips a few feet in front of him. He draws back hesitantly, eyes surveying the room. Boys are reclining everywhere on casual couches, providing vocal beats, or dancing in unison in a small area cleared of furniture. Damian immediately notices Cameron, who's dancing a little awkwardly in the back; it's apparent that he's still learning the dance. The second thing Damian notices is Cameron's roommate, Blaine, who croons the song suavely—but what's noteworthy is that Blaine is not up front and center. That position is filled by a rather tall Warbler with a sly, confident expression and a natural fluidity to his movements. Damian knows instantly from watching Mike and Brittany move that this guy is also a dancer, and that it's likely that he choreographed this dance—or at least learned it the fastest and is now teaching it to everybody else; hence, the front and center position.

_Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down,_  
><em>Never gonna run around and desert you.<em>  
><em>Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye,<em>  
><em>Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you.<em>

Slide, spin, rock back and forth—right now, some of the Warblers are a bit unsteady on their feet and the dancing is uneven and messy. However, the lithe dancer up front helpfully calls the steps via vocal cues and hand signals. According to Kurt's intel, the Dalton Warblers will have the routine down pat by Sectionals (which is in three weeks), and it will be _flawless_ then. Everybody will be perfectly in synch; an incredible feat that all starts with hours of practice during the weekdays _and_ the weekends.

After the song, everybody whoops and claps and congratulates each other. Everybody except the tall dancer, who opts to sidle over to Damian. "Hey there, stranger," the boy smirks, offering his hand. "Sebastian."

"Damian." He takes a step back; Sebastian's just a little too close and a little intimidating. This must be the security guy Justin warned him about.

The grin on Sebastian's face is friendly, but there's a little crazy underneath. He's smooth and sharp at the same time; his eyes dance in playful nonchalance yet are also acutely perceptive. He's all paradoxes, and Damian doesn't know whether to feel assuaged or uncomfortable around him. "Thinking about transferring here? Or just checking out the competition? Or just a particular person?" Sebastian preens.

"Oh, hey Sebastian," Cameron appears to Damian's right. "This is my buddy, Damian."

Sebastian's eyes dart between the two of them, and his face relaxes slightly. "Rowr, tiger," he laughs. "Finally caught yourself one, huh Cam? You two go have your fun."

Cameron pulls Damian away quickly. "Yeah, sure."

As Cameron pulls Damian out of the large room and into a hallway filled with classrooms, Damian hisses, "What is up with that guy?"

"Sebastian Smythe. The most ambitious, stubborn guy you'll ever meet, but he knows what he wants and he won't stop fighting till he gets it. He's our choreographer, by the way."

Damian looks back, even though the Warblers' Hall is out of sight. "He's… is he…?"

Cameron begins to hop up the spiral staircase. "Gosh, can't wait to get out of this uniform," he mutters. "What? Sebastian is just determined. He'll work his tail off for results. Grades? Lacrosse? Dance routine? Girls? Boys? Check."

* * *

><p>Slowly, the Warblers drain out of the music hall. Nick and Jeff detain Blaine with some lighthearted conversation as they sip from their coffee mugs, and then Sebastian materializes by Blaine's side.<p>

"Sebastian!" Jeff exclaims, a little surprised. Nick glances nervously between Blaine and Sebastian. "Hey, great solo…"

"Yeah, lots of emotion behind it," Nick adds.

Sebastian shrugs. "What can I say?" he smirks as he places a possessive hand on Blaine's forearm. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I've got to discuss a couple dance steps with our star Warbler."

Nick and Jeff glance at each other helplessly as Sebastian pulls Blaine away. However, Blaine stops defiantly and resists. "I've… I've got homework," Blaine stutters. "And Cameron's friend—"

"Damian will probably want his privacy with Cameron, if I've read him correctly," Sebastian says soothingly, reattaching himself to Blaine and pulling him into a dark sideroom. "He might have been my type," Sebastian's tender fingertips brush the curve of Blaine's jaw, "But you're the only one who's ever going to be just right for me."

Blaine stares Sebastian down as firmly as he can. "Listen, Sebastian. It's over. _We're_ over."

Sebastian just smiles, his eyes dancing. Blaine backs into a wall, and Sebastian just keeps walking into him. "You think I'm just going to give up on us because you said so?" he whispers into Blaine's ear. Blaine shivers as Sebastian's body heat joins with his own, as Sebastian's lips brush against his ear. "I love you, Blaine Anderson, and I'm never going to give you up."

Blaine can't look Sebastian in the eyes, but he can moan when Sebastian's lips suckle the sweet spot below his ear.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?" Tina hisses as Brittany yanks her hair out of its high ponytail and begins to whip it around wildly. In the middle of the crowded mall during the lunch hour.<p>

"I love this song!" Brittany sings, her neck constantly rolling back and forth to sling her hair around.

Hannah shares a look with Quinn. They're close enough to the food court that hundreds of conversation drown out most other sound.

Brittany drops it down low, then slowly brings it back up, still whipping her hair wildly. Sunshine giggles, striding up to their group. "What's happening?"

"Brittany's dancing to the songs in her head," Tina explains, baffled. Sunshine just grins, jumps behind Brittany, pulls out her phone, and plays the song over exceptionally loud speakers. "This one?"

_Don't let haters get me off my grind; whip my hair, if I know I'll be fine  
><em>_Keep fighting until I get there; when I'm down and I feel like giving up  
><em>_I whip my hair back and forth!_

Sunshine laughs self-consciously, but she ignores the weird looks and just enjoys the dizzying feeling of her hair swishing around her head. Tina joins for a second and drops out, blushing furiously and laughing. Hannah shrugs, tosses her head back, and whips up a red flurry of hair. Tina joins back in, and the three follow Brittany's lead.

Quinn backs away uncertainly, and Marissa follows. Together, they walk away briskly. "We don't know those people," Quinn jokes.

"Agreed," Marissa laughs, looking back. People are gathering in a circle around Brittany, Sunshine, Tina, and Hannah. Hannah is having trouble following Brittany's lithe movements, which has transformed from a spontaneous breakout of hair whipping into an actual dance performance. Tina and Sunshine have a little more success copying Brittany's body rolls, hand waving, and direction in hair whipping. Some guy pulls loudspeakers out of nowhere; three girls fall into place behind Tina and Sunshine as Hannah furtively drops out; and before they know it, Brittany has started a small flash mob.

Quinn tugs on Marissa's arm, then notices the commotion. "My god, it's like they planned it out," Quinn gasps, fingering a strand of her long blond hair. "Do you think we should join back in?"

Marissa doesn't answer. Her eye is drawn to one particular girl—a gorgeous Latina in such a tight red dress that most of the male attention seems to be focused on her. When it comes time for hair-whipping, her entire body spins and rolls without missing a beat, moving fluidly from one position to the next (even in high heels). She's obviously a dancer, and one who knows how to flaunt her body in all the right places.

Marissa recognizes her from the fair. The carnival where she'd had her falling out with Cameron. The Latina had given her comfort and empowerment—and Marissa hadn't seen her since.

"Marissa?" Quinn says.

"I'm going in," Marissa decides, striding towards the crowd without waiting for an answer. She pushes her way through three layers of people before breaking into the clearing, just in time for the final chorus. The song itself is nonsense and repetitive to the point of infuriating irritation, but Marissa jumps into place next to the Latina and proceeds to go wild. There is this one time where Brittany lunges to the right three times, then to the left, but otherwise, most of the girls are left free to their own devices until the song ends.

The crowd breaks into applause and dissipates almost immediately. The world spins in jerky motions around her as Marissa looks for the Latina. A super-skinny brunette who looks like she's hiding razors in her pockets joins two other skanky looking girls, who call her "Mack" and begins a loud discussion, throwing occasional dirty looks at her. Brittany and Sunshine are sitting on the floor in dizzy confusion; Tina leans against Quinn and Hannah wobbily.

Marissa spots the Latina talking to a much smaller girl. As Marissa approaches her, the smaller girl takes off suddenly.

"Hey, I'm Marissa," she gasps, sliding to a stop in front of the other girl. The Latina whirls around gracefully, warm brown eyes checking her out briefly before widening in recognition. Marissa continues, "I saw you at the carnival in Lima. You helped me when I was going through a really rough time, and I just wanted to thank you so much for that."

The Latina grasps Marissa's hands. "Oh my god, I remember you! You were the girl that needed a hug!" Without preamble, the girl wraps Marissa in another close hug, as if she were a close friend instead of a familiar stranger. "It's been weeks since I last saw you! How have you been since then?" The girl shakes her head. "You know what? We can't talk just standing here. Let's get coffee." The girl is a very tactile person who doesn't think twice about grabbing Marissa's hand and pulling her to the nearest Starbucks. "I'm Emily."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_That second song is most annoying song in the world, but fun to dance to._

_Sorry, this is transition chapter. Writing transitions are frankly difficult, because I know where I want things to go, but I need to get there first. Things will pick up next chapter, I swear—brownie points if you can guess who the three skanky-looking girls are! They'll join in for some action later on..._

_So the occurrence in Ch18, with Cameron walking in on naughty Blaine and the mystery guy… that worked out pretty nicely. I knew that I wanted to have Blaine involved with somebody at the time he meets Kurt in this story, because their developing relationship in the show was a very clean thing. I'm just throwing some wrenches in there to make the love polygons messier :) The thing is, Sebastian didn't exist on the show back then. Actually, I had originally intended for the mystery guy in Blaine's bed to be… Wes. But I never got around to that storyline, and then Sebastian came up and that was canon enough, so the ID of the mystery guy changed to Sebastian._

_Now throw Kurt into Sebastian and Blaine's messy on-off relationship, and we have another crazy love polygon. Expect more Warblers action. Justin Bancroft and other Warblers are from _CP Coulter_'s "Dalton," a legit fanfiction that takes Kurt's transfer to Dalton and runs with it. It features a cast of incredible original characters, each developed in their own right. The whole story is so well-written in general; it has its own Wiki page, for heaven's sake! Anyways, I'll be borrowing some names from that story._

_Dameron friendship finally! I realized that they really haven't interacted outside of Project GCAMBT—that needed to change. Marissa meets Emily = another step further in Project GCAMBT. Be warned, every story has multiple perspectives, and the people narrating them like bending the stories to portray themselves as the victims. This is true in real life, and it's true in this story. Look at Marissa and Cameron, or Emily and Bryce. I need a POV from Bryce. Anyways, just be prepared that a certain person's perspective on history is not necessarily hard fact._

_Half-anniversary of "Glee Project: Live Out Loud!" And Merry Christmas!_


	33. What Is Love II

"Hanover House is right over that way," Cameron points from their position standing on South, a wide, brickworked walkway that lies perpendicular to another road leading to the dorms. "They're pretty much the Switzerland house—they're neutral territory. If you keep walking straight down Main," he indicates to the street perpendicular to South, "You'll hit Stuart House. Windsor House is to the left. There's a bit of a rivalry going on between houses. Some guys are pretty intense about it."

Damian looks around in interest. "Three dormitories? I was under the impression that there were many more students here."

Cameron nods; it seems like Damian's pretty used to the whole boarding school thing. Maybe it's a big thing in Europe? "Not everybody who attends Dalton lives here. A lot of the guys live locally or with host families. Tuition is crazy steep, and so is boarding." He pats his pants pocket for his phone, then frowns. "My phone… I think I might have left it in the Warblers' Hall…"

Cameron promptly turns around and jogs back into a different part of the building that they had exited from. Damian follows into a rather large auditorium; the stage at the end of the hall is raised to account for the flat floor. Damian doesn't get to notice a lot, though, before Cameron has exited the auditorium, runs down a short hallway, and promptly freezes in his footsteps.

"What's wrong?" Damian asks, confused by Cameron's sudden pause.

"Shh," Cameron shushes, tilting his head and straining to hear; Damian falls silent and listens. Soft, hushed voices issue from a nearby classroom.

"Ahhh… stop. I can't."

"I want you, Blaine. I love you. Nothing's going to change that, and no one's going to convince me otherwise. I'm going to keep fighting for you until you finally realize it."

"No. Not now. I can't—" Blaine's voice is suddenly cut off by a sharp inhalation.

A throaty chuckle. "Nobody knows you like I do, Blaine. I _know_ you."

"Not… stop… yes—ohh."

"I love you, Blaine."

"Sebastian, I—"

Cameron slams the classroom door open, mumbles a very pointed, "Oh, sorry," and jumps back outside.

Blaine squawks in uncomfortable surprise. There's some scuffling, a couple muttered curses, and then Blaine appears, his clothes in disarray (but still on his body). "Cameron, I—"

Cameron just motions to Damian, and they walk down the hall. "I'm not one to intrude into your private life," he calls back without turning around, "But as a friend, I feel obligated to let you know when I think you're making a bad choice."

The moment they get around the corner, Cameron apologizes. "Sorry for including you in on that," he says sheepishly. "Blaine's my roommate, though, and my friend."

"He's… gay?"

"Yeah, sure. This is a bullying-intolerant school, so we get quite a few gay guys here. Don't worry, they're all pretty cool. If you make it clear that you're not interested, most of them will back off."

Damian ponders this. In McKinley High, people pick on Kurt just because he's gay. Here at Dalton, people like Cameron talk about it as if it were just another facet of everyday life.

"Anyways," Cameron continues, "Sebastian and Blaine have broken up at least eight times. Which means that they've gotten back together seven times."

"Eight times?"

"That's the official number," Cameron nods gravely. "To add shock value, the two summer flings they've had were also included in the final count, as well as a brief make-up/make-out week before they went back to hating each other. So really, in terms to relationships longer than two weeks, they've only broken up five times."

"…That doesn't really make it any better."

"No, it doesn't. Which is why I think it's necessary to discourage them. The only thing is, Sebastian gets what he wants. And he wants Blaine."

* * *

><p>"Blaine…"<p>

Blaine straightens his tie and smoothes back his tousled hair. "I'm sorry, Sebastian, but I really don't think this is a good idea."

"Just because Cameron—"

"No, he's right. I know. We broke up for a reason."

"You broke up with me and left me heartbroken." Sebastian pouts teasingly, his uniform perfectly arranged.

"Fine, I broke up with you, but only because the relationship was more about you and your needs."

"But Blaine, honey, we both know that most of the time _I_ was the one satisfying _your_ needs."

Blaine blushes. "I need to go," he says hurriedly, brushing past Sebastian and his wandering hands.

"I love you, Blaine Warbler," Sebastian says softly as Blaine hurries out of the classroom.

Blaine pretends he doesn't hear.

* * *

><p>"And then I climbed in through the window, and even though the Matron was sure I wasn't in bed by lights out, she couldn't argue when she found me in my bed the next morning, already haven taken a shower," Emily laughs, playing with a lock of hair. "Seriously, though, climbing that tree in heels was one of the hardest I've ever had to do."<p>

"Why didn't you just take them off?" Marissa laughs.

"Ha, I figured that out about halfway up," Emily snaps lightly. "But then I couldn't carry them and keep myself in the tree at the same time. So I just prayed to the Unholy Trinity—Lady Gaga, Beyonce, and Shakira—to let me in… and a girl on the second floor opened her window and let me in."

"Did she know who you were?"

"Well," Emily says with a hair flip, "Ellis just knew me as one of the prettiest girls in the school. But no, we didn't know each other until that night. So, to pay her back for her kindness, I gave her a makeover. Ohmigawd, she was such an insecure geek before. I just gave her some tips and took her under my wing. We've been besties ever since. That girl has a snarky streak a mile wide; but she's good for me, because, before I met her, I was too sensitive. So we've been good for each other!" Emily finishes with another hair flip, sending a soft wave of perfume Marissa's way.

"That's good, to have friends like that," Marissa echoes, sipping her peppermint mocha.

"Okay, enough of me talking!" Emily giggles. "It's your turn. What's up in your life? How has your life improved since my hug to ya?" Marissa cups her coffee mug nervously, and Emily's smile droops a little. "What's the matter, girl? You _still_ haven't figured things out yet?"

"No, I got the issues straightened out," Marissa protests. "He apologized, came clean about everything, was a perfect gentleman about it."

"Awwww," Emily coos. "So what did ya do?"

"I… The problem is, I… I have history with him that I don't want to repeat. And… I think I've fallen for somebody else."

"Mm-mm. That's not healthy. Don't want to go repeating history, unless ya know for sure that ya've improved for the better. Now are ya sure that ya won't go repeating history with this new beau?"

"What?"

Emily leans forward, placing her soft hand lightly on Marissa's. "Take it from personal experience: if the problem is with you, then it doesn't matter which guy ya choose to hitch up with. There is no magic guy who's going to sweep ya off your feet, make everything better, and be the perfect man. There is no perfect man. There's just you and your assets, and then the guy who bests fits into that big picture. There's just you and the keyhole to your heart," she makes a ring with her forefinger and her thumb, "And then there's that one guy who has the key that fits." She inserts her finger into the ring made by the fingers of her other hand. "And if there's a certain chemistry…" She moves her finger rapidly in and out of the ring and smiles mischievously.

Marissa blushes and slaps Emily's hand down. "Thank you for the visual," she groans.

"You're welcome," Emily laughs. "So, is this the guy who fits ya just right?"

Marissa sighs, propping up her chin on her fist. "The old guy? I don't know. I thought he did, but then his key changed and it didn't fit anymore. So I broke it off. Except now, I think it might have changed back, but I've found another shinier key over here and it—what am I even saying?" Marissa exclaims. "This is the weirdest analogy I've ever used! And I can't get your gross visual out of my head."

Emily motions her to go on. "Then forget about it. I'm understanding ya, girl; just say whatever feels natural."

"Well, the new guy… he's amazing. He makes me feel… alive, for the first time since I broke it off with the other guy. This new guy… there was this instant connection, and even though we haven't hung out a lot, I just feel like… he's the one. Actually, not that serious. But it just feels like we really understand each other. We really _know_ each other. That doesn't happen every day," Marissa laughs.

Emily nods understandingly. "I knew a guy like that once. So charming, knows what to say and what to do. He's a great people person; he reads people like open books. So good at just _getting_ people, you know?"

From Emily's tone, though, Marissa feels like there's more the girl wants to say about her ex. "But…?"

"The problem was that he needed constant stimulation. He's interested in complexity, layers and layers of personality. And then he just peels those layers away, probing deeper and deeper until he reaches that girl's heart."

"Sounds intrusive," Marissa comments.

Emily just smiles sadly. "He took his time. He'll go your pace. He'll wait for ya to open up until he has ya."

Marissa notices the change from third person to second person, but decides not to comment on it. "And then?"

"And then, when he finally has your heart… he gets bored. When there isn't anything new left to interest him, he just leaves you," Emily murmurs. "And you thought you had his heart, but when he leaves, you realize you never had any of him all along.

"I was that girl, Marissa. I was too closed off, hardened by boys taking advantage of me before, and I wasn't going to let Bryce have at me. But he was just so caring and so kind… he broke me down bit by bit, and I kept giving him little pieces of my heart. The entire time, I felt like I was getting to know him more, that he was giving me his heart too because he just got nicer and more romantic and loved me.

"And then I finally gave myself up to him." At this point, Emily's just staring down into her coffee. "We had it going for a couple weeks. He was just so perfect. He had all of me… and but was it. He saw another girl, another puzzle to figure out, and left me behind.

"I thought I wasn't going to be that girl… it just turns out, I was his longest relationship. That's all I can really say about my time with him. Ten months."

Marissa grips Emily's hand. "I'm sorry."

"I know, right?" Emily plasters a smile across her face as she flips her hair carelessly. "Ten months of finally sharing my heart with another person. It's the most exhilarating thing ever, you know? Almost like becoming one with that special somebody. I seriously thought he was the one. And you know the funny thing? Bryce said the same thing."

Ice floods Marissa's veins. She freezes instantly, her hand going tight around Emily's. "What did you say?"

Emily's carefree attitude drops away as she freezes up as well. "What?"

Marissa's mind whirls frantically. This can't be coincidental. She meets her hugger at the mall and they get to talking and it just so happens that she's the ex of the perfect guy Marissa just met? "You said… you said your ex was Bryce?"

Emily still looks apprehensive, trying to pull her hand out of Marissa's vicegrip. Marissa notices this and releases Emily's hand immediately. "What's wrong?" Emily asks in surprise.

"I know what's wrong," a random girl in a military jacket snarks as she approaches Marissa from behind and lays a hand on the back of her chair. "Little Miss Perfect here just don't have any spine, if you ask me."

"Excuse me, chica?" Emily is suddenly all fire.

The bulky African-American girl addresses Marissa. "Don't just be another shallow bitch desperate for somebody to dominate her."

Emily's eyes bug out in rage. Marissa turns to the stranger, barely keeping her offence from showing in her voice. "Excuse me, but you don't know the whole story."

"I overheard enough of it," the stranger says flatly, "to know that all y'all be doing is waiting for another man to hold you down just so you can conform to a system of suppression that's geared against feministic individuality."

Marissa and Emily blink in surprise. The girl just opened up a whole 'nother can of worms.

Not for long though. "Did you just call me a bitch?" Emily screeches, jumping to her feet.

Another girl materializes next to the first. This girl is white and stick-thin, with tight, skin-revealing clothes and a razor-sharp gleam in her eyes. Marissa recognizes her as a dancer who joined in Brittany's impromptu flash mob—Mack, if Marissa remembers correctly. "Any sniveling bitches needing to be shanked, Sheila?" she says coolly, jutting her tiny hips to the side.

Marissa rises to her feet as well, just to even out the playing field. She and Emily stare down the two other girls. "You two need to go," Marissa says icily. "We're not interested in your political activism."

Mack moves to block Marissa off. "Now listen up, Pretty Face. Grow a spine. If you're not throwing up, bleeding, or getting devoured from the inside out by the fruit flies that were hiding inside your cherry before it popped, then chill out and stop sobbing about sadomasochistic crutches that you can't live without."

"Huh?"

Sheila clarifies, "Ignore the tool over there and ditch Prince Charming."

"Oh no you didn't just call me that," Emily growls.

"Just a man's tool?" Mack smirks. "Why, I believe she did."

Emily lunges at her, perfectly manicured fingernails going for the eyes.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Catfight between the Skanks and Emily/Marissa! Bets on who's going to win...?_

_I think I can officially say this story is AU. I'm not really following the second season anymore, and haven't been since ch18. Oh well. Yeah for originality!_

_Too bad the Skanks were forgotten after the first episode - though I appreciate the writers' choice to focus on the current cast. (Tina and Mike got actual storylines of their own! Yay!) Still, it would have been fun to play around with Mack, Sheila, and Ronnie. (Anybody notice they were like skank versions of Rachel, Mercedes, and Zizes?) (And what's going to happen next year when half the cast graduates? ...No guarantee that I'll still be watching though. The show is sort of a hot money-making mess that I probably won't appreciate once Kurt and Quinn and Mercedes are gone.) (Though if they recruit The Glee Project people...!)_

_My attempt to give Sebastian and Emily a little more backstory, and un-villainize them. Some people are downright bitches when it comes to your feelings, but they have their reasons. As Linkin Park said, "And I know I may end up failing too/ But I know: you were just like me with someone disappointed in you."_

_Happy New Year's Eve, and I will see you in 2012!_


	34. What Is Love III

Everything goes into slow motion.

With practiced ease, Mack reaches into her pocket, where Marissa can see the outline of something long… and sharp. Without a second thought (the first being _Oh my god she really is going to shank Emily_), Marissa grabs her warm, half-empty cup of peppermint mocha and lobs it at Mack's head. Unfortunately, she's not the best at any sort of physical activity, and her shot goes wide—but the loosely fitted cap pops off the cup mid-flight, spraying sugary coffee all over Sheila as she goes to break up the fight (or assist Mack?)

Sheila screams. Roars, more like. She whirls around, mocha-soaked hair slapping Mack in the face. Mack's hand is still in her pocket when one of Emily's hands grabs her wrist, keeping it there. The other open palm makes a perfectly audible slap against Mack's face, throwing the skinnier girl's weight to the right. Using her grip on Mack's wrist, Emily adds to that momentum by pushing down on the girl's wrist, causing her to tilt beyond her center of gravity and stumble into Sheila.

Sheila, meanwhile, is just beginning to charge Marissa in what seems to be a full-on tackle. Marissa grabs her purse and swings it at Sheila, who bats it aside as if it were lightweight (which it is; Marissa makes a mental note to stick some weights in there). With no desire to be tackled through Starbuck's glass plated window directly behind her, Marissa dives to the left. Right into the catfight between Emily and Mack, in which Mack yanks on Emily's hair and clothes as she goes down, and Emily leaves angry red scratches on Mack's wrists.

Meanwhile, Sheila makes up for Marissa's change of position by simply adjusting her trajectory, and it looks like Sheila's just going to send herself and Marissa crashing into the tables and chairs. Not as painful as the window, maybe; but that table has sharp corners. Marissa mentally slaps herself for not jumping in the other direction.

But then another figure enters the picture—taller, larger, and with much more momentum, Hannah swoops in and grabs Sheila's military jacket, yanking it to the side and away from Marissa. The black girl yelps as she reaches as far as her stretched jacket will go, and then some more as cloth tears. Her momentum still keeps her moving, though, and she veers to the side and crashes into Emily, forcefully extracting Mack's fingers out of the folds of Emily's front. More clothes tearing, more screaming, more girls pouring in from different directions.

Everything suddenly speeds up again. Sunshine slides to a halt in front of Marissa, settling into a very solid martial arts stance. Tina and Quinn descend on Mack, each grabbing a wrist and dragging her out into open space, away from Emily. Hannah still has a hold on the back of Sheila's jacket, keeping her away from Emily. A lot of screaming and name-calling and—

"Alright, break it up!" calls a male voice. All girls involved freeze at the sound of the mall cop's voice…

And then it's every girl for herself. They all split in frantic flight, faults forgotten in sheer panic of incoming trouble. Marissa grabs Emily's purse, her own already in her hand after she tried to attack Sheila with it, and books it after Emily and Tina.

* * *

><p>Damian gawks. "You have a football team?"<p>

Cameron glances around. "What? No, we… oh. Yes, we have a soccer team. But those guys down there are just playing on their own free time."

Damian looks like he's just itching to go down and play, so Cameron suggests that they go check it out.

"Do you play any sports, Cam?"

Cam jumps. People around Dalton tend to call him Cameron; it's always been that way. Nobody's called him Cam since his last meeting with Hannah.

Cameron recovers. "Are you kidding?" he grins, gesturing at his body. "Those guys could probably snap me like a toothpick. Besides, this hair took forever to style."

And it did. He had to get Blaine's help with gel that morning in the bathroom, and Cameron likes the final product. With his clear, bright eyes and carefully ruffled and spiked blond hair, he looks easy-going and laid-back. Blaine had gone as far as to call him 'gorgeous' (something Cameron never got when he wore those fake glasses and left his hair looking like a bird's nest).

Damian shrugs. "Whatever, your choice." And he promptly unfastens his belt and drops his drawers.

He's wearing soccer shorts underneath, but Cameron can't help but flinch at the unexpected motion. Damian laughs heartily at his expression. "Gotcha," he laughs, before pulling his shirt over his head. Once again, he's wearing a basic white tee underneath the red-and-blue striped polo, and Cameron just chuckles along with him.

"Tricky, but I'm not falling for that again," Cameron laughs. "Now you're just going to leave me alone and play soccer?"

"Your choice," Damian says again. "Com'on, Cam. Run some of that lunch off. Great lunch, by the way. I might consider transferring, if it means I get free dining hall food."

"It does," Cameron grins as he takes off his dress shoes and peels off his blazer. "I don't know why I'm doing this."

* * *

><p>About five crazy minutes later, Quinn has finally circled around the entire perimeter of the mall to make it back to the parking lot where she parked. She didn't want to go back inside for a while, so she just walked around the outside.<p>

Tina, Hannah, Marissa, and the Latina are already standing around her car when she gets there. "What the hell happened?" she questions accusatorily.

The Latina flips her hair haughtily and answers. "Those skanks listened in on our conversation and then barged in, calling me and Marissa bitches and tools. My god I just wanted to slap some sense into that chica. Damn."

"Where's Brittany?" Tina asks. "And Sunshine?"

"Here," the small Asian calls, appearing around the corner of an adjacent car. "That was adventurous," she grins.

"You guys left Brittany behind?" Quinn freaks. "Oh my god. We have to go back in there. She's a sitting duck for anybody who wants to take advantage of her. Oh my god, how could we do this? Why didn't somebody grab her hand? Marissa! You're the one Brittany seems to have latched—"

"I was in the middle of a catfight," Marissa intones. "In case you didn't notice."

"We have to go in there," Quinn repeats. "Who was the last person to see her?"

Sunshine raises her hand. "But hey, I heard Marissa screaming bloody murder and went to help," she defends.

"Urgh!" Quinn growls in frustration. There are a million scenarios Brittany could be involved in right now, and most of them involve people taking advantage of a gorgeous blonde's childlike naivety. "Who—"

"My roommate says she found a mentally disabled girl," the Latina, Emily, says, her hand covering her cellphone's speaker. "Ellis has the car, so I'm waiting for her… but she says she has to take this tall blonde to the bathroom first."

Quinn almost lunges for the phone. Emily tosses it to her, a bitchy _fine, okay _look on her face. Quinn ignores this in favor of catching the device.

"Hello? Is Brittany safe?"

The voice that answers on the other end sounds like it belongs to a dry, older woman. "She's fine. I found her licking pennies she picked out of the wishing fountain. She said the sound of falling water made her want to go to the bathroom, and when I told her I could lead her there, she latched onto my hand. Are you her caretaker?"

"Just a friend. Could you meet us outside at Lot 10, Row 5?"

"Alright, I'll see you in a bit."

Quinn hangs up and heaves a sigh of relief. "Oh my god, she's okay."

"Yeah, well you know what? My friends aren't so much."

Everybody whirls around to the newcomer. It's a rather chubby girl wearing all black, from fishnets to a studded choke collar. Greasy brown hair falls limply around her shoulders. The smell of expired sweat wafts off her, causing the nearest people—Tina and Marissa—to wrinkle their noses in disgust.

"Who are you?" Sunshine asks warily.

"The name's Ronnie. Anyways, because of you," the girl continues, "Mack and Sheila took off. Without me. So now I don't have a ride back to Lima. I'd appreciate a ride back."

"Crazy bitch tried to stab me!" Emily hisses.

Ronnie crosses her arms and shifts her weight to one hip. "Mack's not that stupid. Most of the time, at least. It's pepper spray in her pocket."

"Oh."

"By the way," Ronnie says offhandedly to Emily, "This flew out of your purse when your friend picked it up for you."

Emily takes her wallet back from Ronnie, her lips forming a perfect O. "Oh."

"I guess you didn't find Brittany?" Ronnie assumes, glancing around. "I told her to wait by the fountain when you guys left her. Tweedledum would probably just hurt herself anyways."

"No, she's coming with—" Quinn does a mental double-take. "Wait, you know Brittany? Do you—?"

"Blondie finally acknowledges my existence," Ronnie snarks. "Though I guess it's too below you to notice us. Sheila, Mack, and I: we're the Skanks. We usually hang out under the bleachers."

Quinn pulls out her car keys. Tina actually looks like she's going to throw up, so Quinn decides to take one for the team. "Com'on, I'll give you a ride home when Brittany gets here."

* * *

><p>Damian recognizes one of the players as the guy who'd directed him to Warblers' Hall—Justin, the tall one with a slight cockney accent. He's a thunderstorm on the field, plowing through anybody in his way and raining fury on anybody nearby. Damian learns quickly to maneuver around him, passing to other players constantly—usually a tanned, athletic blond with a similar angry streak, Derek, or a rather smiley guy called Danny.<p>

Eventually, Damian loses track of the time. He doesn't notice when the friendly game evolves into a fierce competition or that Cam has long since dropped out. He only snaps out of it when Danny taps him on the shoulder.

"Hey man, sorry to interrupt you, but Cameron's been waving at you for the past three minutes."

Damian looks around and spots Cam, who is indeed waving at him. His tie is loosened, the top buttons of his oxford are open, and he looks like he's recovering from incredible exertion. If Cameron's skill level of soccer is any indication, Damian would guess that Cam doesn't really exercise all that much.

He jogs over ruefully. "Sorry about, uh, forgetting you." He glances at his watch and realizes that it's been fifteen minutes. "Oh man, I'm—"

"Man, you were a monster on that field," Cam marvels, waving him off. "I almost didn't want to disturb you, but you've got three missed calls." Cam hands over Damian's cell phone.

"Oh. Uh, thanks." Just as he takes it, the phone begins to ring again.

* * *

><p>"So… Sheila's a heartless bitch," Ronnie states when Quinn drives into Lima city limits.<p>

Everybody freezes momentarily, and then the ice breaks. "I only saw her for two minutes and that's what I got," Hannah contributes emphatically.

"I seriously thought she was going to tackle me through Starbuck's front window," Marissa confesses.

"Definitely crazy," Quinn agrees.

"I heard she eats cat poo…" Brittany murmurs.

Ronnie gives them all a doleful side-eye. "I guess I was wrong about you," she directs at Quinn. "You don't know what a heartless bitch is, do you?"

Awkward silence. Quinn looks a bit affronted, unsure to be offended (seeing as Ronnie just implied she was a heartless bitch and then revoked it as if it were an honorary title).

"Sheila has the most balls out of everybody in the school," Ronnie explains, "and she isn't afraid to speak her mind and stand up for her rights. You know we live in a society dictated by narrow-minded, opinionated men? They're the ones who make us feel like we need their approval just to feel good about ourselves. They're the ones who tell us we have to live up to their standards. We have to stay in the kitchen, we have to look nice so they can show us off to their friends, we have to make them happy and obey them so they feel like they're in control of something. It's just a system of masochistic suppression, and we Skanks aren't a part of it."

"Okay, so I can respect your point of view," Marissa says. "But that still doesn't give her permission to barge into a conversation and call us—"

"It's the truth, though, and she doesn't sugarcoat it. Tool? Somebody's bitch?"

"No," Quinn cuts in. "My man doesn't control me. I am still my own woman, and he—"

"Sam Evans?" Ronnie scoffs. "Or Finn Hudson? The school's two quarterbacks, and also the biggest tools Lima has seen in—"

"I'm just going to be blunt," Quinn says, defaulting back to queen bee mode. "You make yourselves as gross and skanky as possible just to alienate yourself from society because you don't want to be 'part of the system'?"

"But that's not what you really think, is it? That's just what years of the system's peer pressure has pounded into your head. They want you to feel terrible about yourself and your image. They want you to lash out at other people to make them feel worse in an attempt to make you feel better-"

Quinn winces.

"-They hate you if you don't conform to their impossible body image standards-"

Hannah winces.

"-and, even if you do conform, they make you hate and abuse your body-"

Marissa winces.

"-so that you go out and cash in on useless, artificial glamour products so you feel like a woman instead of an awkward teenage girl."

Sunshine winces.

Ronnie continues, "Screw the system and what they want from women. I don't care what they think; I do what I want. That's what being a heartless bitch is all about; we're independent women and our hearts aren't part of the system that everybody else is literally dying for."

"Okay, so don't listen to the system or man or whatever; they're just there to screw your heart over," Hannah interjects. "What about love?"

"Really? With people falling in and out of love all the time, love just seems like a load of bull to me. You fall in love with someone when you want approval or sex or shiny toys or shiny sex toys, and when you don't get it, you fall out of love. That's what I've seen," Ronnie argues rather bitterly.

"I'm sorry for your experiences," Hannah says quietly, "But that's not how love is supposed to be, as I see it. Or maybe I'm talking about love in a different sense of the word. I see it as caring for another person and wanting what's best for them. I love my friends. I'd do anything for them. Mostly anything, but you get the point. I'll do anything to make them happy." By the end of her sentence, she's almost speaking to herself.

"What is love, but a way for a man to hurt a woman," Quinn murmurs.

Brittany speaks up, her voice full of authority. "That's why ladies should make love to each other. To balance out all the hurt."

An awkward silence fills the air, but then Ronnie whirls to face Marissa. "So you. You've been too quiet this entire conversation, so I assume you're brewing up something significant and sentimental to say. Com'on, spit it out."

Marissa stares at a point on the ground, absolutely speechless. She really doesn't know what to say. Is her self-esteem so low that she needs somebody to tell her that she's beautiful?

Yeah, that's could very well be what all her life's problems boil down to. Cameron, Puck, Bryce…

"What are you doing with your life?" Ronnie elaborates, and Marissa can feel Ronnie's eyes drilling into her scalp. "Are you living it on your own terms and without regrets, or moping around waiting for some guy to rule it for you?"

"I… uh, I…" Marissa glances out the window and recognizes her neighborhood. "Turn left here," Marissa instructs Quinn. "Mine's the light blue house on the left."

"Saved by the bell, huh?" Ronnie smirks. "I'll let you off the hook, but take care of yourself, Princess. Think about how you're wasting your life."

"Who said she was wasting it?" Hannah indignantly jumps to Marissa's defense. "Marissa is one strong chica and she doesn't need anybody to tell her she's gorgeous or self-sufficient. And if she's going after a guy, it's not because she needs his approval, but because she has feelings for him. Right, Marissa?"

Quinn slows to a stop in front of her house, and Marissa mumbles something incomprehensible as she slides out of the car. Hannah—so supportive and so _wrong_. Hannah's the strong one, the one who supports all her friends 100% before attending to herself. Is that love? What is love?

"See you guys on Monday," she murmurs, as they all wave bye to her—even Ronnie does. Brittany murmurs something to Quinn; Quinn shakes her head, but Brittany insists and slides out of the car. Quinn throws up her hands, then begins to drive away.

Brittany runs over and hugs Marissa. Marissa just returns the hug, unsure of what to say, but then Brittany grabs her by the hand and pulls her towards her own house. "I wanna see your room," Brittany giggles eagerly.

* * *

><p>Damian's jaw drops when he checks the caller ID on his ringing phone.<p>

Lindsay.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Awkward cliffhanger... But really, the chapter kept dragging on and I was itching to post, so I just chopped it into two chapters. I also realized I was writing a lot of stuff from girls' POVs, so this is my attempt to increase that._

_What is love?_


	35. What Is Love IV

Brittany squeals the moment she enters Marissa's room. There's a kitty on the bed. A cute fuzzy little kitten that Brittany immediately scoops up, holding it around the ribcage and letting its lower legs dangle. It's a lot skinnier than Lord Tubbington. It's also winking at her; one eye is closed while the other stares right back at her. Brittany plops down on the bed, still holding the kitty at arm's length, stares into its single eye for a significant amount of time.

"What secrets are you keeping from me?" Brittany finally whispers.

Marissa's hands touch hers as the redhead lifts the mewling kitten out of Brittany's grasp. She cradles it gently. "Brittany, meet Sir Winxalot."

"Even his name winks at me."

"Uh, yeah. I did that on purpose." Marissa slides onto the bed, leaning against the headboard while still cradling Winxy. "I just adopted him a couple months ago. He lost his eye to an infection when he was a baby, but he's the most confident kitty you'll ever met."

A new thought occurs to Brittany's mind. "Sir Winxy - he's royalty, right? That means he's related to Lord Tubbington."

"Lord who?" Marissa sets Sir Winxy on the bed surface. He stalks over to Brittany, who promptly strokes his back.

"Lord Tubbington's my cat. He also manages my finances and coordinates my outfit." Brittany gestures down at her body, clad in a tight yellow shirt, shorts, and suspenders. "Isn't he fab?"

"Gorgeous," Marissa smiles. "I like the earrings."

Brittany grins at the compliment. "Yours too. They're like bananas fetuses. You're like Katy Perry, before she sold her soul to Candyland."

"You mean the fruit jewelry?" Marissa reaches over to her bedside table and pulls out a couple fruit-themed accessories—a watermelon necklace, a green apple ring, orange slice earrings. "My friend made them."

Brittany immediately begins to don the ones she can get her hands on. "You can, like, totally be a fruitcake with all of these." Marissa has a weird expression on her face that Brittany decides not to notice. "Two melons, a cherry—" Brittany reaches for a ring Marissa's holding. "Oo, can I see your peach?"

Marissa almost drops the accessory into Brittany's hand, her other hand hiding the furious blush rising in her cheeks.

Brittany slides Marissa's peach ring onto her finger, then holds up a bracelet. "What's this long purple one?"

"That's an eggplant."

"Is it sour?"

"…No."

"That's good," Brittany declares, holding up a necklace boasting several slices of orange and making a face. "I don't like sour fruits. Whoa, look at that. It matches your hair. Here, let me put this on you," she offers, immediately rising to her knees and scooting over. Marissa obliges, swinging her hair over one shoulder and baring the back of her neck. Brittany leans in close, her arms encircling Marissa's neck to fasten the clasp.

The problem is, she doesn't know how to do these things. Lord Tubbington usually helps her get dressed in the mornings, and while Sir Winxalot might be royalty, he has yet to give Brittany a nod of affirmation or a flat-eyed stare.

Besides, the real reason is because she wanted to get close to Marissa. San's been spending more time with her boyfriend, which is Brittany's cue to seduce another guy. But Damian's busy over the weekend, and truthfully, Brittany's not really in the mood. She just wants her lady time with Santana back.

Santana and Sam are also busy this weekend, though, so Brittany's just plain lonely. And out of everybody she knows, Marissa's been the nicest to her. At least, Marissa hasn't called her stupid yet.

Marissa pulls away slightly to fasten the clasp herself. Brittany keeps her arms around Marissa's neck nonetheless, so when Marissa leans back into her normal sitting position, she pulls Brittany into her. Brittany adjusts, sliding her bottom until she's literally in Marissa's lap. Marissa looks slightly uncomfortable, but Brittany just leans her head against Marissa's shoulder and doesn't do anything more.

"Thanks," she mumbles. "I'm lonely."

Marissa hesitantly puts her arms around Brittany's shoulders. "Shh, it's alright. I'm here."

"I know." Brittany turns her head so she can glance at Marissa. "Are you lonely?"

Marissa's answer is immediate, and, as far as Brittany's people reading skills go, forced. A knee-jerk response. "I'm fine."

"Being just okay isn't okay," Brittany insists firmly; she sits up, pulling away from Marissa enough that she can look her straight in the eye. She also pulls her hair out of her tight ponytail and shakes it loose, 'cause this girl needs some serious loosening-up. "You can go through life being just fine all the time, but that's boring. You need sprinkle some action in there to really live." Brittany gestures at herself. "Look at me, I'm living the life all the time."

Marissa smiles with just a little bit of condescension, as if she's explaining a complex thing to a child. People get that look all the time when they talk to Brittany, and she's used to it… but Marissa doesn't do that, and that's another reason why Brittany was drawn to her. "Maybe. But then again, it's good to just sit back and enjoy your alone time. Smell the roses."

Brittany sits back and runs her fingers through her hair, smoothing out its kinks. "Oh, I smell them all the time," she says reassuringly. "I think it's my shampoo. Lord Tubbington recommended it." Brittany tosses her hair over her shoulder for good measure. "So, about this guy."

Marissa freezes, the smile dropping off her face. "What?"

"You know, this heartbreaker dude. The one that the Latina-who-may-or-may-not-be-Santana's-flirty-cousin-twice-removed told you about."

"You heard that?"

Brittany nods solemnly. "I have supersonic hearing. But only when I don't want it. Like the one time my dad took his girlfriend for an adventure in their room."

Marissa's face almost matches the color of her hair. "I… I…"

"Are you going to take him out?"

"It's complicated," Marissa answers vaguely.

"That only counts as a Facebook status," Brittany says. "Really, it's a yes or no thing. You're in a relationship, or you're not. Or you just sleep with them 'cause you think they're hot."

Marissa tilts her head. "So is 'sleeping with them' a yes or no?"

Brittany is slightly confused. "Of course it's a yes. It's just short-term."

"Okay… well…" And then it's like something breaks within Marissa, because a lot of words start coming out, all at once. "I don't know. My first boyfriend—"

At this, Brittany perks up. Juicy gossip is always worth the listening time.

"—…one day, he just started shutting people out of his life. Even me. We used to be so close, but then he grew distant… and then he just stopped caring. I tried making myself better, just for him, because he was my entire world, but he didn't even notice. And then, all of a sudden, he was gone. Just disappeared out of my life for two whole years. He didn't call, didn't Facebook, didn't do anything. I gave him everything and he broke my heart. I just wasn't good enough."

"You don't think you're good enough?" Brittany asks in shock. "'Cause trust me, Marissa. I've been with a lot of people, and I think you're totally smoking."

Marissa smiles faintly. "Thanks, Britt. I think I've reached that point too, being comfortable and accepting of myself. But… getting close to a guy who doesn't care as much as I do... I just don't want that to happen again. I don't ever, ever, ever want to experience that again."

"How do you know it'll happen again? Are you totally sure that, if you take this heartbreaker out, that he's going to dump you right away and break your heart?" Brittany flips her hair over her shoulder flippantly. "Can't trust the haters, girl. I could smell the jealousy coming off that Latina, Marissa. She's an ex. Are you really not going to take the guy out just because somebody told you not to?"

"You said yourself: he's a heartbreaker."

"Everybody knows a broken heart comes from loving too much," Brittany refutes. "Besides, you'll never know what he's really like until you try it."

"This comes from personal experience?"

"Sure. The Octopus was a fun change. So was Playing the Cello, and the Camel Ride. I did the Italian Chandelier with a gymnast once—you know, extreme flexibility required for that position and all. The Viennese Oyster was really painful; I don't recommend trying that—but again, you'll never know till you try it." The look of shock on Marissa's face causes Brittany to finish up early. "But you can't actually get to that stage if you don't ask him out first. What are you waiting for? You're really hot, you're ready, and you won't know what's going to happen until you try it. And you're really hot."

Marissa still doesn't look quite convinced, so Brittany decides to convince her. She leans forward, very gently, and claims Marissa's lips with her own.

* * *

><p>Damian almost drops the phone in his hurry to answer it. "Hello?"<p>

Nothing.

"Lindsay?"

Silence. Then: "Talk to me."

"Lindsay, I'm sorry. I… I was so caught up in my own emotions, I didn't stop to think about what you were going through."

She doesn't say anything. There's a bit of rustling, as if she's waiting for him to go on. So he obliges her.

"Lindsay, I don't know what you're going through. I don't know what you're doing. I don't know anything. And you didn't know about me. That's what I failed in. I failed to talk to you about what I was going through, and that's why we're at this point now."

At this point, Damian picks a spot on the horizon and begins to walk mechanically in that direction. He needs privacy. "I swear, Lindsay, I was never dating Marissa, and any feelings I have towards her are strictly platonic. She is a great friend of mine, one of the closest friends I have since I arrived in America, but I have no romantic feelings for her. Those were always directed towards you, and I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that. Funny how sometimes we don't even know what we're feeling, huh? But it was there the entire time, and I only had to say it aloud to realize it was true. I love you, Lindsay. And you've said that it means nothing to you, but it means everything in the world to me. I love you, Lindsay, and I've said it aloud."

Absolute, utter silence.

"Lindsay. Please say something."

Nothing.

Damian hits a wall. Literally. It's a building that Damian didn't even notice until he collided with it. Banners stretching over the entrance have yellow beams emblazoned on electric blue.

Damian shakes his head; for a moment, he's embarrassed that he accidentally walked into a building, but within seconds, his attentions are once again focused on Lindsay. "Lindsay, please. Please say something."

"I can't talk to you if what you say means nothing to me."

Damian almost jumps out of his skin. Lindsay. That was definitely Lindsay. She was listening, she heard him, and she just said something. Even if it was 'no.' Ironic.

"Lindsay, I can't say it enough. What else can I do? What else do you want me to do?" At this, Damian can't help but keep the ire out of his voice. "Lindsay, I've tried everything. I've tried talking to you. I've tried communicating. I've said everything; I've poured out my heart to you. I've told you everything. Okay, maybe not everything, but if you want me to, I'll do it. And I'll do it because I love you and I'll do anything for you to say the same. Lindsay, this is me putting my 100% into loving you. Isn't that what you said you wanted? Complete devotion? Isn't that what I'm doing now? I'm still hanging here and you're not giving me an answer. Lindsay, if you're not going to say anything, at least answer this one question. Just this one question. What do you feel, Lindsay? Can't you at least tell me that? Just tell me up straight, instead of dodging around the issue or saying what you _should_ do or what else you have going on in your busy life. What do you _feel_? How do you feel towards me?"

Silence again.

"Do you hate me?"

No reply.

Damian's emotions are running away from him and he can't stop them. "Why are you doing this to me? Why? Why do you keep sending me mixed messages? Avoiding me, then agreeing to talk, only to pull away again. We kissed, then you kicked me out of your car. You call me, but you don't say anything and here I am in a very public place telling everybody within earshot about my bloody feelings just so you can hear, but you won't even say anything back. Why are you doing this, Lindsay?"

Silence. This time, it only serves to infuriate Damian more.

"Lindsay… I don't know what to say. I've said it all and it doesn't make a difference, does it?"

Click.

Call ended.

Damian drops the phone, hot tears suddenly pricking his eyes.

"I didn't think so."

* * *

><p>The kiss is very, very gentle.<p>

Brittany is a very good kisser.

Brittany's hair does smell like roses.

There are a hundred stimuli registering in Marissa's senses: Brittany's lips against her own, her flowery scent drifting down, the light brush of blond hair against her collarbone. The bed shifts underneath both of them as Brittany shifts her weight. Brittany's knee touches Marissa's thigh. A suspender slides down Brittany's shoulder, making a scraping sound as it slowly works its way off. Marissa tastes cherry chapstick as Brittany's lips move very gently against her, never intruding or pushing or demanding anything back in response.

Marissa doesn't respond; her brain is too busy whirring with shocked thoughts. Brittany's kissing her and she doesn't really mind. She doesn't have a problem with another girl kissing her. That's a pretty big development in itself; not something Marissa wants to pursue right now, but good to know.

Eventually, Brittany sits back and licks her lips. "Tastes like peach," she grins.

That brings another hot rush to Marissa's face. "Brittany, I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

Brittany just nods and whips her hair around a little, just like she did back at the mall. "I can live with that."

"Uh, what I mean to say—"

"Aw, Sir Winxalot wants some love too," Brittany coos, sharing an Eskimo kiss with the kitten. "Don't worry, Winxy. Lord Tubbington can show you some tricks."

"Brittany? I… I need some time alone. To think." She doesn't want to be rude, but she doesn't want to be a jerk either and make up some crazy excuse that Brittany would probably believe anyways, like "Sir Winxalot needs to do his daily tai chi exercises in silence," or "oh look at the time. I need to sing to my plants."

Brittany nods and pulls out her cell phone. "I'll just have my dad's girlfriend pick me up."

Marissa sighs in relief when Brittany finally takes off, getting in the car with a dark-haired woman. The house is finally quiet, spare for Winxy's quiet mews. Marissa picks him up and carries him to the kitchen, where she starts making herself a sandwich.

Brittany's right: Marissa really doesn't know what Bryce will be like until she tries him out. But how everything turns out depends partially on her and her expectations upon entering the relationship. Will Bryce be an emotional crutch or a supportive man who acknowledges her independence?

* * *

><p>Lindsay stares at the phone in her lap. She'd heard speech issuing from her phone and, assuming she'd butt-dialed a random number, just hung up without looking at the ID.<p>

Eight minutes. Damian had been talking to the silence that was her butt for eight minutes, while she practiced for an upcoming speech competition.

Who knows what he said. To her ass, nonetheless.

Lindsay vows from then on to keep her phone in her purse.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Yes, some fruits are euphemisms for body parts. No, I'm not going to tell you which or what. __Real-world Marissa really does have an adopted, one-eyed kitty called Sir Winxalot :) And a friend who makes fruit jewelry._


	36. Rolling In The Deep I

_Featured songs:__  
>"Hold It Against Me" by Britney Spears, cover by Sam Tsui<em>

* * *

><p>School returns on Monday, and that means everybody Brittany knows is crammed into tiny classrooms and huge hallways for eight hours (why can't things be the other way around?). Lauren Zizes plows through the crowds of people, mercilessly knocking the slow ones to the side. Sunshine Corazon, the small Asian with a big voice, talks animatedly with Artie and Tina; she waves at Brittany as they pass. The swimmer she knocked up three weeks ago makes eye contact with her; she had just discovered that McKinley High had a pool and a whole synchronized swim team who knew how to dance in the water—so she promptly asked him if he knew to "dance" in the locker room.<p>

He breaks eye contact with her and looks at the ground, and Brittany remembers that their dance didn't last very long because his girlfriend walked in on them.

Never mind those memories; Brittany's had worse. It's because of those situations that Brittany makes it a point not to sleep with people who are already taken. But if they don't tell her…

As far as she knows, though, a certain Irishman is not taken. And by the way he acts, it seems as if he's never, ever, ever been "danced" before. Like, ever. So who better to show him, other than the Dancer herself?

(Brittany's talking about herself, in case you didn't know.)

She has math with him, which she figures he should know pretty well, since Irish and geology… uh, geography… no, she means geometry… anyways, since both of them are pretty much foreign languages.

She sucks on the tip of her pen, glancing over every once in a while and trying to catch his attention. Unfortunately, he seems to be looking only at the teacher. (Seriously, who does that?)

Eventually, the teacher finishes drawing funny triangles on the board and sits down at her desk. That's everybody's cue to open their books and draw five-sided triangles and squares with their corners chopped off, like stop signs. Brittany just keeps sucking on her pen, still glancing over at Damian. She should be using her pen to do her homework, but she's too busy using her pen as a prop to send a certain message Damian's way.

He looks up once and meets her eyes. She grins at him and pulls the pen out of her mouth with a satisfying "pop" sound, and he gives a tiny smile back before he looks back at his homework. He totally missed her message, but if anything, Brittany's persistent.

Maybe five minutes later, he glances up again, right at her. She waggles her eyebrows at him while sucking her pen tip thoughtfully. His crazy expressive eyebrows do a little dance in return that makes Brittany's heart flutter, but his facial expression still says he doesn't get it. Nevertheless, within a minute, he gets up and walks out the door, taking the hall pass with him.

Brittany takes her chance and gets up to follow him. The teacher doesn't even protest, knowing from past experiences that Brittany will (pretend) not understand her. Sometimes, being a little ditzy does have its advantages.

By the time she gets out into the hallway, Damian is just disappearing into the bathroom. He didn't wait for her, which probably means he has no idea she's following. Never mind that; it just gives her time to prepare without making him wait. Brittany lets down her hair, shaking the kinks out of it; she straightens her uniform, pops a mint, stores her pen in a secure place, steels herself, and strides in after him.

He's just finishing up when she walks in. He zips up, turns around, and promptly freaks out to find her standing just two feet away. "Bloody hell, Brittany, what are you doing here?"

She just steps forward, grabs the front of his shirt, and pulls him in. Before she can actually get to the lips part, though, his hands are on her shoulders, holding them firmly apart. "I-I-I c-can't do this," he stammers, backing away but only hitting the urinal directly behind him.

"Sure you can," Brittany states simply. "Hot body, free of charge. What are you waiting for?"

"Brittany, I can't. I'm still getting over somebody else."

"Marissa broke up with you weeks ago."

"No, there's someone else."

"Were you two dating?"

"No, we never were, but I'm trying—"

Brittany's really confused now. "How can you be getting over someone if you were never dating them in the first place?"

Damian looks really flustered; Brittany decides it must be because she's still standing six inches away from him. She steps back to give him enough breathing room, but not enough room to push past her. He visibly relaxes when she does so. "She… I thought… I just… I don't know."

Brittany puts her fist to her chin in a thinking pose. "So you want her. Does she want you back?"

"I don't know."

"Damian, it's a yes or no answer," Brittany sighs. "You should know if she's really interested in you or not. If she's not showing the signs, then you'll just have to accept that it's probably a NO."

"I… I don't know. That's exactly what's wrong! She's sending me mixed messages."

"Or maybe you're just confused and mixing up the messages she's trying to send you. Newsflash, and don't mix this one up: I've wanted you since you slid down your shiny rainbow into Ohio, and I'm totally down for letting you tap my pot o' gold."

She approaches him, places her hands lightly against her chest, and kisses him again, softly. She grabs his hand and guides it to her chest and lets it rest there, just for a moment, before pulling away.

Damian looks exactly like he did the night she kissed him at Rachel Berry's house party: hooked. Only this time, neither of them is drunk. That means that Damian still has his reservations and that other girl and plenty of other rational thought processes holding him back… but at the same time, he just let her kiss him, so now he can't blame it on the alcohol. He's hooked, and Brittany won't stop reeling him in until she has him.

Brittany winks and pulls the pen she'd been sucking on earlier out of her cleavage. She uses it to scrawl her number on his wrist—a constant reminder of her offer. Then she sashays away. "I'm waiting."

* * *

><p>The class bell rings and Quinn rises regally out of her seat. People skitter out of her way as she exits Tuesday's elective, Home Economics, and walks to her locker to exchange books. Some shoot her quick, fearful glances and look away just as quickly; since Quinn returned to her position as head cheerleader at the beginning of the semester, she's dutifully reinforced her role as queen bee.<p>

One person does not glance away. She keeps on staring.

Quinn growls just a little in her throat and keeps walking. Even after she's passed the girl, Quinn still feels the girl's gaze boring into the back of her head.

This has to end.

Whirling around, Quinn shifts her books to one arm and strides over to Rachel Berry. She forcefully takes the girl by her elbow, drags her to a less crowded, quieter area, and swings her around so violently that Rachel is practically paralyzed in fear when she impacts the lockers with a resounding crash. The papers she held hit the floor and scatter.

"What do you think you're doing?" Quinn hisses.

"I-I… Quinn, w-what…"

"You know what I'm talking about. Looking at me funny, almost flirting with me, touching me unnecessarily during Glee practice."

Rachel has gathered her wits by now, and she replies haughtily, "It's a show choir performance. There is dancing involved and innately requires interaction between people."

"You're supposed to dance opposite the male lead," Quinn hisses. "Who happens to be my boyfriend, by the way, so be careful where you put your hands, RuPaul."

"As far as Facebook, you haven't made it official," Rachel retorts. "But Finn is none of my concern. After all, he did break up with me."

"We haven't made it official?" Quinn whisper-screeches, slamming the flat of her hand against the metal surface right next to Rachel's head. It has the desired effect of fearful silence. "Just because Finn and I haven't changed our relationship status, you think you can just hit on me shamelessly?"

Rachel looks straight up terrified, but she whispers, "Two weekends ago… the party at my house—"

Quinn almost slaps her across the face, but she stops herself; Rachel flinches anyways. "That didn't happen," Quinn whispers. "We were both drunk out of our minds and Sam just broke up with me. I would have made out with a pine tree if it made me feel any better."

Rachel's hand darts forward, finding Quinn's shoulder (and hindering any attempts to slap her with that hand). Her eyes are bright and impassioned. "Quinn, please. You can't tell me that you didn't feel anything that night. Just the smallest flicker of emotion."

Quinn roughly shoulders Rachel's hand off. "Man-Hands, it was just a drunken mistake. Don't you dare mention this to anybody. Nobody at all."

Quinn turns to leave, but Rachel has the nerve to grab her and pull her close, lips right next to her ear as frantic, whispered words tumble out. "Q-Quinn, I know this may feel strange, but I _know_ you felt something that night. Maybe it was just your broken heart reaching out for some comfort and I just happened to be the closest person willing to give it, b-b-but… there has to be a reason w-why you… you kissed me."

Quinn really does slap Rachel this time.

The one-minute bell rings.

Impossible. Quinn doesn't really remember the events of that night; some light touches, Rachel's shining, warm brown eyes… and then waking up with Rachel curled in her arms.

It goes against her religion. It goes against all the values her parents brought her up with. (Look where those morals brought her parents' marriage.) Notwithstanding that sad hypocrisy, though, Quinn has been raised with that mindset, and it's not something she can wipe away with the occurrences of one night. It's just wrong. And Rachel has the nerve…

Quinn steps back, putting at least three feet of distance between them. Rachel's hair hangs around her face in dark waves, hiding her expression from the blonde's view. When Rachel finally does look up, though, there are tears in her eyes.

Heavy guilt immediately washes over Quinn. No matter her beliefs, Rachel doesn't deserve to be treated this way. Nobody does. A little intimidation, a little pushing and hazing and slushy-ing—that's okay. But a direct attack? Unacceptable. She wants to apologize. She has a brief, crazy impulse to take Rachel in her arms and murmur apologies and tell her that she doesn't feel the same way but that it wasn't right for her to hit her.

But she doesn't. She just lifts her chin and snarls, "I swear, if anybody hears even the slightest peep about this—_anybody at all_—I will personally end you."

She turns on her heel and strides down the emptying hallway. She doesn't look back.

* * *

><p>When Lindsay walks into her living room Wednesday evening, there's a small intervention waiting for her.<p>

Well, it's really just Samuel and McKynleigh. And McKynleigh looks like she doesn't even want to be there. But Samuel looks up at her with these intense eyes, motions to the couch next to him, and simply says, "Sit."

Lindsay remains where she is. "We missed you at practice today, Miki," she says softly.

"I had to meet with Samuel. Can you please come over here?" she requests. "We need to talk."

Lindsay approaches cautiously, choosing the empty spot next to her best friend rather than Samuel. Samuel shifts to face both of them directly. "What about?" Lindsay asks, though a sinking feeling tells her that she already knows. The last time they sat her down and talked, it had been about Bryce. He'd been her rebound relationship after Derik; Lindsay just needed love so badly, though she was great at hiding it and pretending to be all aloof and independent. Samuel and McKynleigh warned her though; they actually sat down and talked to her—and when Bryce did break up with her a couple weeks later, it wasn't as hard or painful as it could have been.

But it still sucked. Especially since he went right back to his ex, Emily. If there's one person Lindsay would enjoy throttling, it would be that pretentious slut.

Lindsay folds her legs underneath her and prepares herself. What could they possibly say about Damian? Never mind the fact that he actually likes her and that he may have actually been single when he was flirting with her; she's already broken it off with him, and that's final.

"Lindsay," McKynleigh begins. "I have to apologize. I haven't been entirely honest with you. About Damian."

"So he wasn't actually dating Marissa," Lindsay waves it aside. "He already told me."

"But do you really believe it?" McKynleigh presses. "I… I knew. He and Marissa were never in a relationship. I even saw her with… another guy, but I didn't say anything. But I didn't tell you. And all the times I've seen Damian, I never—"

"Because I told you not to tell anybody," Lindsay interrupts, then glances sidelong at Samuel. "Which you apparently failed at."

"I wheeled it out of her, Linds," Samuel says. "Miki didn't stand a chance."

"It doesn't matter," Lindsay replies stoically.

"But it does," Samuel argues. "Damian—he's a good guy. He never was in a relationship with Marissa, and he was totally in the clear whenever he was flirting with you. Miki and I, we share some blame for not connecting the dots between you two, but you especially, Linds. You've been really secretive about what you're doing. I'm not going to pry, but seriously, Damian doesn't deserve half the shit you're giving him."

Lindsay's retort dies in her throat. Damian's a sweet guy and she really liked (likes) him. Finally, for all her ranting verbosity, all she can say is, "I can't."

McKynleigh puts a hand on her knee. "You can't what, hun?"

"I can't… not after Derik."

"Linds, Damian and Derik are pretty much opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to personality types," Samuel explains gently.

"And, unlike Bryce, Damian seems to be 100% all about you," McKynleigh adds.

"I don't have time," Lindsay states flatly. "Morning, afternoons, nighttime—there's always something Coach has me doing. I can't do anything else. And I don't want to do anything else. All I want to do is succeed, and if that's what I have to do all day, then fine."

McKynleigh gives Samuel an _I told you so_ look.

Samuel doesn't give up, though. "Seriously? You don't have any time, at all?"

"I'm on my dinner break," Lindsay replies simply. "Then back to school. I usually get back home around midnight and have seven hours of sleep before I get to go back."

Samuel runs his fingers through his hair in part surprise, part exasperation. "You can't be serious."

"Dead serious." Lindsay mimes flopping over dead. McKynleigh smiles.

Samuel remains serious. "Lindsay, there's still the fact that you've treated Damian like shit, and you should… erm, I really think you should apologize. Nobody deserves that, especially Damian."

Lindsay's out of excuses, and she's finding it hard to keep her cool façade together. "Samuel, I… can't talk to Damian," she finally confesses. "This is my one shot. My shot in a lifetime to prove that I am greater than just a lonely high school girl without a purpose, who needs somebody to support her. I want to shine. I want to be on top. And if that means that I have to cut people out of my life to get there, then so be it."

Samuel's expression darkens. "You don't need to be alone to get to the top."

"We'll always be here for you, babe," McKynleigh comforts. "And maybe… so could Damian. We'll all be for you, wherever you're headed."

Lindsay shakes her head firmly and stands up. "Not when he's the one I have to get over to get there."

* * *

><p>Glee practice on Thursday is hard for Damian. It's finally starting to sink in that Lindsay will never contact him again; the silent phone call was probably her final statement.<p>

When she drove off while he was still leaning against the roof of her car, he hadn't been angry then. He'd just been heartbroken that she let him kiss her and then yelled at him afterwards. But really, none of this is his fault. He's communicated everything and she's just played around with him without really promising anything. He loves (loved?) Lindsay; he's said it too many times. And Lindsay? She hasn't said _anything_ back. Not during her phone call, not during the car ride. She'd even avoided dinners specifically to not come in contact with him. Doesn't her silence speak loudly enough?

Brittany, on the other hand, has made it very clear that she has always been available for him. She helped him get on Carmel High's soccer team the first week he was here, back when he didn't know anybody; that was and has been the nicest thing any stranger has done for him. She also tried to make out with him afterwards, which really freaked him out… but, as she explained later, that's how she supposedly solidifies her friendships.

Brittany's available, she's a very pretty girl, she's sweet and funny without meaning to… she's… she's easy. That's what really draws Damian. After fighting with everything he's got for Lindsay, only to fail and get his heart crushed, Damian is more than willing to just take the easy way out. Maybe Brittany will be easier on his heart.

He snaps out of his thoughtful trance when the room's lights dim while spotlights focus on three girls: Brittany up front, with Santana and Quinn flanking her. Damian's not sure how, but there's also a spotlight on him. On either side of him, Matheus and Hannah glance at him, then scoot their chairs away to leave him isolated. Brittany points at him, pinning him in place as Brad begins the first piano chords.

_Hey, over there, please forgive me if I'm coming on too strong.  
><em>_Hate to stare but you're winning and they're playing my favorite song.  
><em>_So come here, 'little closer, wanna whisper in your ear.  
><em>_Make it clear, little question, wanna know just how you feel._

The Cheerios gyrate and snap their fingers along with the drum beats. Nothing too complex, but Damian's left speechless anyways—because Brittany maintains eye contact with him the entire time and she's singing with genuine passion. The triangle formation eases forward until Brittany's standing in front of him; Quinn and Santana branch off to their respective boyfriends, but Damian only has eyes for the gorgeous blonde in front of him.

_If I said my heart was beating loud; if we could escape the crowd somehow;  
><em>_If I said I want your body now; would you hold it against me?_

Brittany's hand reaches forward tentatively, the tips of her fingers reaching under his chin. When she applies the slightest pressure upward, Damian follows, standing up and allowing her to pull him by the hand to the front of the room. Beside him, Sam and Finn also follow.

_Cause you feel like paradise and I need a vacation tonight.  
><em>_So if I said I want your body now, would you hold it against me?_

As Brittany holds his hand tightly, Damian can't deny that he does have feelings for the blond cheerleader. It's a small thing that started long ago with an appreciation for her body and is now starting to blossom into an appreciation for her character as well. Brittany's childlike, innocent to a point, generally nice and soft and dull, unlike Lindsay, who was bright and excitably explosive and full of razor edges. Brittany is very much unlike Lindsay, which Damian can appreciate.

_Hey, you might think that I'm crazy, but you know I'm just your type.  
><em>_I might be a little hazy but you just cannot deny  
><em>_There's a spark in between us when we're dancing on the floor  
><em>_Gimme gimme more, gimme more, gimme, I wanna see it, so I'm asking you tonight._

She grabs his other hand so that they're facing each other. In this position, she's pretty much singing directly to him. With each passing moment, she pulls him closer to her, slowing wrapping her arms around his neck. He places his hands experimentally on her hips; she smiles, and he smiles in return. For a second, it looks like she's going to kiss him, but she settles for resting her head against his chest.

_If I said my heart was beating loud; if we could escape the crowd somehow;  
><em>_If I said I want your body now; would you hold it against me?  
><em>_Cause you feel like paradise and I need a vacation tonight.  
><em>_So if I said I want your body now, would you hold it against me?_

Brittany is flush against his body, her arms still around his neck. He's tall enough that he can rest his chin on top of her head, and flowery scents waft into his nose. She's a beautiful girl (albeit a tad slow) and she's pretty much throwing herself at him. After his recent heartbreak, Damian finally just lets her in.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_I'M BACK!_

_Though in no way will I update as frequently as I used to. I have a lot of schoolwork to make up for this semester ever since my accident. I just feel bad that I haven't updated this story in so long (and it's Spring Break for me now) so here is! Let me know if I messed some things up - I read through the previous 35 chapters again (holy crap I wrote all of that?) to remind myself of what's going on. Meh. Project GCAMBT must continue._

_Also, a couple of you have noticed—I've removed "Rocky Horror Dream Sequence" from my account. I decided to clean up my account a bit (so I can actually show it to people I know without shame)… so all my M-rated stories are in a separate account, __**fleshflash**__. For instance, a Brory (BrittanyxRory) story will be posted there soon! (I just replaced Damian's name with Rory to make it applicable to the show, but it will be a canon event in this story. I'll make it very specific within this story when the Brory-hot-action happens.) So if you really, REALLY want access to that lemony smutty stuff, jump on over there! _


	37. Edge of Glory I

_A/N: I got hit with writer's block, then got bonked over the head with school. So I'm just going to skip chapter 37 and jump straight into the action of ch 38! I'll write the filler chapter 37 eventually… _

_Featured songs:_

"_Edge of Glory" by Lady Gaga_

"_Love on Top" by Beyonce_

* * *

><p>"GUYS," Tina almost shrieks, sliding into the little crawl space beneath the stairs where Sunshine, Hannah, Matheus, Damian, and Brittany eat lunch. "You have to come to the lunch room."<p>

"Why?" Hannah asks. "I'm tired of picking string cheese out of my hair."

"Every time I go in there, I feel like I'm walking through a forest of legs," Matheus complains.

"The lunch ladies don't serve unicorn poop," Brittany pouts.

"No, this is serious," Mike says, arriving behind Tina. "We've got competition."

* * *

><p>They hear the electronica beat long before they arrive at the lunch room. Students are crowded around the entrance, making it difficult to enter. Once Sunshine clears the perimeter of bodies, though, she finds herself in empty space—empty save for two dozen dancers who are <em>not<em> from McKinley.

Sunshine tries to back up and melt back into the crowd, but the wall of students behind her refuse to let her sink back in. Instead, her friends are pushed to the front as well, all in full view of…

"We're Vocal Adrenaline," a somehow familiar senior declares from his position front and center, his voice amplified by a small microphone attached to his headset. "And we're here to show you what show choir is really about."

The music swells as, with a fist pump, the lead begins to sing.

_There ain't no reason you and me should be alone tonight, yeah, baby! (Tonight, yeah, baby!)  
><em>_I got a reason that you're who should take me home tonight (Tonight!)  
><em>_I need a girl that thinks it's right when it's so wrong tonight, yeah, baby! (Tonight, yeah, baby!)  
><em>_Right on the limits where we know we both belong tonight.  
><em>_It's hard to feel the rush, to push the dangerous.  
><em>_I'm gonna run right to, to the edge with you  
><em>_Where we can both fall over in love!_

Everybody dances in unison perfectly, whether they're on a tabletop or on the ground. Hair is whipped and hips are moved; loose shirts are pulled up to reveal just the right amount of toned belly, while the guys' muscle shirts are enough to show tensing muscles during breakdancing moves. The lead—Sunshine swears she remembers him from somewhere—doesn't lose his breath, even when bracing his palms as a platform for two guys to backflip off of. The minute the two dancers are back on their feet, two girls whisk them off in a swing-style dance routine—and that's when Sunshine recognizes somebody: the girl with a lithe, extremely flexible body and a cute pixie cut.

Irony… it's McKynleigh, dancing at McKinley High School. Sunshine and Matheus had spied on her on their mission to keep Marissa and Bryce apart.

BRYCE.

That's him. That's Bryce up front, singing while Vocal Adrenaline swirls around him in a constant vortex of movement. That's Bryce, the one who's trying to get with Marissa and possibly break her heart (hey, Sunshine still can't get over the fact that he's competition, and because of that, there's no way he can be good for her). Vocal Adrenaline is going for a direct approach and bringing to bring them into a funk by challenging them on their home ground.

And it's working.

Vocal Adrenaline is performing a killer Lady GaGa number in their lunch room and McKinley High grants them approving applause, something that's never happened when New Directions has performed. Vocal Adrenaline consists of incredibly dancers with great bodies, amazingly synchronized choreography, and a lead with great rapping skills. This is New Directions' home territory, yet they've already lost the battle.

Well, at this rate, with nobody stepping forward, they're going to lose without even trying to fight.

"Matheus," Sunshine shouts, nudging her friend. He shakes himself from his defeated stupor. "Go find Artie. Tell him to hack back into the PA system and put this song on." She pulls a pen out and scribbles on Matheus' hand. He nods once before slipping through the wall of bodies, out of the lunch room.

"Brittany, Mike!" Sunshine pulls the two dancers towards her. "We can't let Vocal Adrenaline think they can just drop in and watch us roll over. We've been practicing that number, the one for fun, remember?"

Brittany brightens immediately. "Dance off?"

"It's a challenge," Mike echoes, a nervous but eager smile spreading across his face.

Sunshine turns her observation to Vocal Adrenaline briefly. Their lead singer doesn't seem to have a very large range, and the chorus requires loud belting; Sunshine's pretty sure he won't be able to make it.

Speak of the devil: a smaller girl strides up right next to Bryce and proceeds to belt with perfect pitch, rivaling Rachel. Despite physical similarities—dark waves of hair spilling around her shoulders, a strong intensity that lends all the more power to her voice—Vocal Adrenaline's female lead puts a rough edge into her voice, channeling Christina Aguilera instead of Barbra Streisand.

_I'm on the edge of glory, and I'm hanging on a moment of truth  
><em>_Out on the edge of glory, and I'm hanging on a moment with you  
><em>_I'm on the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge!  
><em>_I'm on the edge of glory, and I'm hanging on a moment with you… I'm on the edge with you._

She kills it. It's perfect for her, sits nicely in her vocal range, and she kills it thoroughly. Even Sunshine is floored. Time to up the ante. "Tina, Hannah, Damian," Sunshine orders. "Vocals. Do you remember the lyrics to—Damian?"

Damian doesn't appear to be listening; in fact, he's completely frozen, his eyes still fixed on the lead singers. Sunshine socks him lightly on the shoulder, and he glances at her briefly in shock before returning his gaze to the leads. They're dancing back to back now, still singing to each other. It's an acting performance alright, but Damian looks like he thoroughly believes it—and looks betrayed.

"Tina and Hannah," Sunshine amends her statement. "Let's put some of that gleeful attitude into this, yeah?"

Hannah nods nervously, but Tina puts on a show smile and does some fancy footwork based off their routine that they'd thrown together for fun last week—something for their specific group, since, for all their talent, they're always delegated to backup singers. And here, the opportunity to shine presents itself. Sunshine can feel herself buzzing with anticipatory energy.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Tina grins.

The music blasting over the PA system begins to fade away, being replaced by another tune. Vocal Adrenaline's smooth routine becomes a little choppy as the beats-per-minute shifts, but they continue to steal the stage—right up till the leads' microphones cut off and Sunshine strides right up to Bryce and snaps her fingers in his face.

_Bring the beat in!_

Sunshine starts a steady beat with fingersnaps, something that Brittany and Mike maintain as they saunter up on either side of her. Sunshine just smiles and without the need for a microphone, belts loud enough for everybody to hear, with Tina and Hannah providing backup vocals.

_Honey, honey, I can see the stars all the way from here. Can't you see the glow on the window pane?  
><em>_I can feel the sun whenever you're near. Every time you touch me I just melt away.  
><em>_Now everybody asks me why I'm smiling out from ear to ear (They say love hurts)  
><em>_But I know (It's gonna take a little work)  
><em>_Nothing's perfect, but it's worth it after fighting through my fears and finally you put me first._

Inch by inch, Sunshine's group forces the competition back. They bounce forward as a confident five-person line, exuberant energy so bright it literally rolls off them in waves.

The female lead doesn't back down, though. A huge, fake smile rolls its way across her face, and she begins snapping her fingers as well. Within seconds, VA follows her lead, filling the auditorium with the sound of fingersnaps. When Sunshine falters a verse later, VA's female lead steps in. She knows the lyrics just as well as Sunshine does (apparently Bryce does not), and she rocks the song. McKinley High goes wild at the impromptu show choir battle… only the cheering isn't for Sunshine's group, and Sunshine can only groove along to the music, waiting for her next opportunity.

* * *

><p>Marissa can't take her eyes off of Bryce. She knew he was in VA, but as the lead?<p>

Damn, though; he's fine. He knows how to run a show, even when he isn't in the spotlight. Right now, VA's female lead is blasting lyrics into Sunshine's face, never giving her the chance to take back the show. Bryce stands solidly right behind her, just as intimidating without actually singing by imitating and responding to his counterpart's movements.

And more surprises: Marissa recognizes the female lead from previous summer theater camps—a girl with a powerful personality and an even more powerful voice.

What's really depressing, though, is that the student body at McKinley High is responding so enthusiastically to the performance. And that's never happened before; usually, people sit in apathetic silence, not even bothering with polite applause at the end of New Direction performances. Now, there are some crazy animated people in the crowd, whooping and whipping their neighbors into applause with Lindsay's and Bryce's performance—

Sunshine finally squeezes in a line, and the applause-instigators immediately fall silent. Marissa notices that she's never seen them before. She's never seen them in the school system before. Lima, Ohio is not a very big town; everybody goes to just one high school. There's something wrong here; why would these strangers only applaud VA?

…Those people must be VA undercover agents. When VA performs, they encourage a positive response; when New Directions performs, they don't do anything and let McKinley High's apathy return. Not only are they bashing New Directions by challenging them on their home turf; they also making it look like the student body specifically dislikes them by encouraging them to cheer for the opposing team.

Marissa starts sending out mass texts.

* * *

><p>It's just Sunshine against two leads, one of whom is equal to her in passionate vocals. With the crowd going wild every time VA sings and falling quiet again when she gets a line, it's a losing battle. Only Brittany dances obliviously; Hannah's moves are sluggish, Tina looks like she might cry as she goes through the motions, and Mike's movements are flagging. Even Sunshine is running out of cheerful optimism.<p>

Matheus returns from his errand, pushing through the crowd so he can take his position behind Hannah. However, once he notices that Damian isn't standing behind Tina, he drags the motionless boy along with him.

Damian stumbles forward; he apparently doesn't want to join the performance, but Matheus doesn't notice this in his enthusiasm to take the spotlight back from VA. He pulls Damian forward again, and this gets the attention of the Vocal Adrenaline leads.

The female lead chokes on her words, and they die in her throat. She looks like she just swallowed a bug, her eyes are bugged out in such astonishment. Sunshine doesn't question her opening; she just dives right back into her performance. With the hiccup in VA's lead, VA's impenetrable unity falls apart briefly, long enough for New Directions to gain more ground.

* * *

><p>Marissa leaps to her feet and starts cheering hysterically. Never mind her unexpected bout of enthusiastic support; Sunshine, Damian, Tina, Matheus, Hannah, Mike, and Brittany are still her friends, and she's going to enable her underdogs as much as possible, even when the world (or VA's sneaky tactics) is against them.<p>

To her relief, the president of the International Club responds to her desperate plea when he hollers in approval. One of her best friends in the gardening club applauses, her especially loud hand claps echoing through the room. The student body president who had a crush on her last year rises to his feet, bringing the rest of the student government up with him (whether they know why or not). Even some of the Cheerios in the Celibacy club add their noise.

With leaders of various clubs and the student government (and not random strangers) giving their vociferous approval, the rest of the students are quick to follow—and New Directions is the focus of all the attention.

* * *

><p>Damian can't believe it.<p>

He can't comprehend it.

His brain just won't function. It's probably because he can't breathe; he stopped breathing the moment he saw her.

Lindsay. She quit soccer and started spending all her time doing mysterious activities… this was it.

Lindsay is the female lead of Vocal Adrenaline.

But most importantly, Lindsay's here. She's here, right in front of him, within his reach. After thinking he'd never see her again, she's here.

Their final interaction had been so painful that it'd driven him to go the whole nine yards with Brittany—something that Damian's regretted since then. Ever since that afternoon, every time Brittany laughs and smiles at him, holds his hand, kisses him softly… Damian wishes it was Lindsay. Wishes it was the singer straddling his lap instead of the dancer; wishes that it was those dark curls cascading around his face as they kiss instead of straight blonde hair.

Now she's here, right in front of him. So close. Closer than they've ever been in a couple weeks, and forget about Brittany—Damian wants to close the distance between him and Lindsay.

She's beautiful.

Even as his competition (and forsworn enemies, if Rachel's loathing is any indication), even as a girl who'd erupted in an angry monologue against him, had brushed him off, had driven off and left him in the dust, Damian still thinks that Lindsay is beautiful. She's every bit the wonderful singer that Samuel said she was, and all those hours training in secret has given her a graceful dance form. She shares her dance with the male lead, and their choreography is hardly as spectacular as Brittany's fantastic movements—but Damian only has eyes for Lindsay.

Then Sunshine begins the counterstrike, pushing VA back. The male lead releases Lindsay, who glares at Sunshine with such intensity that Damian feels the smolder all the way from here. Sunshine just sings blithely back, fighting back with glee rolling off her happy face.

Lindsay finds a pause in Sunshine's song, slips in, and dominates. Behind her, VA is thrown into a haphazard frenzy, throwing together an impromptu performance that, while still good, makes Lindsay shine even brighter with her soaring voice and just the right amount of growl that sends shivers down Damian's spine.

_Now everybody asks me why I'm smiling out from ear to ear.  
><em>_They say love hurts but I know It's gonna take a little work.  
><em>_Nothing's perfect, but it's worth it after fighting through my fears and finally you put me first.  
><em>_Baby it's you. You're the one I love—_

Damian's snapped out of his daze when somebody tugs his elbow. Before Damian can realize who it is, he's falling forward and barely catches himself; Matheus is pulling him forward in his haste to join the group. Damian briefly remembers that they've practiced before, and that he's supposed to be standing behind Tina. He knows the dance steps, but with Lindsay right there… He can't even remember to breathe when she's all the way across the lunch room.

Matheus doesn't know this, though, and insistently continues to pull Damian forward. He stumbles again, the flat of his foot slapping loudly against the linoleum as he braces his palms on the floor.

When he looks up, Lindsay's staring directly at him.

For just a second, his body forgets to make his heart beat.

Then, as if to compensate, it jackhammers wildly.

Lindsay's still staring at him, her bright blue eyes unblinking in her shock. Sunshine snatches her opportunity and is singing again; Mike and Brittany shuffle in sync; Tina and Hannah and Matheus do body rolls; and for once, McKinley High responds as a single force to their own Glee club, egging Sunshine and her small group on in their opposition. But all Damian can really comprehend is that Lindsay is here with him. He feels like there's this invisible connection between them, binding their hearts together and wrapping them closer to each other. He tries to send his emotions down this wire, trying to communicate his forgiveness and love.

_Baby it's you!  
><em>_You're the one I love. You're the one I need.  
><em>_You're the only one I see. Come on baby it's you!  
><em>_You're the one that gives your all. You're the one I can always call.  
><em>_When I need to make everything stop, finally you put my love on top._

* * *

><p>The music continues to build in volume. Every repeat of the chorus is highlighted by a rising key change and faster tempo, to the point where she's relying purely on muscle memory to bounce her way through the footwork. Sunshine's face shines with sheer bliss as people cheer around her, swelling in admiration as she consistently hits the higher notes with her incredibly strong voice. So this is what the spotlight feels like. Finally. She prepares to let all hell loose, to not hold herself back and launch into the final repeat of the chorus…<p>

Mercedes' chocolate thunder combined with Rachel's robust voice cut cleanly through her hopes, and the entire Glee club jumps from the sidelines as if this were their plan all along. Finn joins Rachel as they slide smoothly in front of Sunshine, taking positions of the lead singers again. Sunshine gives up her spotlight without a fight, quietly blending into the background again amongst Hannah and Tina. Santana hops up next to Brittany and copies the routine seamlessly; Puck and Quinn join the front lines, hopping up on the lunch tables while pushing VA out of center of the room. By the final conclusion of the song, New Directions has reclaimed the lunch room, to the thunderous cheering of the student body.

* * *

><p>Vocal Adrenaline huddles along the walls, looking pissed at getting beaten at their own game.<p>

Lindsay knows it's her slip up that ultimately led to their defeat.

She knew that Damian attends McKinley High; he made it clear the first day she met him. She also knew that there was the chance he might be eating in the lunch room when VA did their sneak performance, and she was prepared to blatantly ignore him.

But she had no idea that he was in McKinley High's _show choir_. She didn't know he would be in a spot where she couldn't pretend like she couldn't see him. She'd assumed that, since he was in varsity soccer, he wouldn't have time for show choir practice. Unless McKinley's show choir practices were super short.

But the fact is, Damian's in Glee club. Now there's no way she can cut him out of her life; he's her competition.

The look in his eyes screams that he still loves her.

And she can't cut him out of her life because she loves him too.

…This is too messed up.

She needs to get out of here. She needs to get away from VA's accusing stares, from the applause that is not directed at them, from her apparent failure, from everything she failed to do today. She pushes her way blindly past people, all of whom ignore her—except one, who grabs onto her wrist and won't let go.

"Lindsay," Damian says softly. "We need to talk."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_As I said in the author's note above, I've been buried underneath academics and didn't get a lot of time to write. I wrote this chapter a couple weeks ago and was going to write a transition chapter detailing Damian's relationship with Brittany… but writer's block rendered me incapable of fulfilling that goal. So I just went ahead and posted this chapter, the moment all you Damsay fans have been waiting for… next week! How will the final confrontation of all Damsay confrontations turn out? ;)_

_Hey, head on over to __**fleshflash**__ if you want to read the M-rated event that went down between Brittany and Damian… (Though it's been changed to Brittany and Rory to make it accessible to non-GP:LOL readers)._

"_Edge of Glory" was inspired by a Youtube post by Lindsay, singing to… a bottle of water. And still managing to sound incredible._

_Check out Beyonce's music video for the sheer peppy happiness that I get from it. It's like a modern take on old school 80's music, I love it. Plus you can get a feel for the fancy footwork that comes out of it if you watch the music video. I guess you could say the lyrics repetitive, but it's just so… bouncy :)_

_We finally find out what the hell Lindsay's been doing with her time. It's only taken 30 chapters or so to actually get to this point. Who says this story doesn't move along? …Yeah. Okay, so when I first sat down and started drawing up the storyboard, this was one of the main pillars of the story. Cameron and Marissa have turbulent history; Damian's in New Directions and Lindsay's in Vocal Adrenaline. But as is the nature with all stories, they evolve. Sometimes they tell themselves. That's where Marissa and Damian came out of. And Marissa and Bryce? I was going to make Bryce and Emily one-dimensional douchebags, but as this story went along (and you readers dropped reviews), I came to view them as people with their own personalities and perspectives. Sunshine and Matheus—how stereotypical is that, sticking the two short people together? And why doesn't Hannah get any lovin'? And how does New Directions balance all its talent? And what happened to Puck? (My god, I really did forget Puck. And Artie. Uh, what should I do?)_

_Thanks for all your reviews! I will continue writing more consistently when the summer gets here—in TWO WEEKS. So drop off suggestions and possible character plots, yeah?_

_Side note: The Glee Project Season 2? What? (Starts plotting more stories…)_


	38. Edge of Glory II

_A/N: The chapter you've all been waiting for!_

* * *

><p>Lindsay thinks about wrenching her wrist away from Damian and running for it. She doesn't want to deal with him and the possibility that he wasn't really dating Marissa and genuinely likes her. She made the decision weeks ago to sing for Vocal Adrenaline. McKynleigh told her that, if she put her all into it, Vocal Adrenaline would put its all into her and push her to the top.<p>

Isn't that what she's doing right now? Devoting her life to the cause. Making sure that Vocal Adrenaline succeeds so that she can ride the crest to fame. And if that means she has to give up soccer and social life, so be it.

Only now, she can't do it. She's spent sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, thinking about Damian and those three words and how they shouldn't mean anything to her. Her past three relationships told her that, and look where it got her: alone.

But when Damian says those three words, her traitorous heart skips a beat.

Damian pulls her down the hallway and into a classroom—astronomy, by the looks of it, with mobiles of the solar system hanging from the ceiling and such.

They stand in awkward silence for a moment. Lindsay focuses at a spot on the floor, not looking up into his face. For all her stubborn strength, she can't tell him no (nicely) when he's standing right there, so close to her.

"Lindsay… I don't understand."

Anger is the easiest emotion to channel, and it has the effect of pushing people away so they leave you alone. "Isn't it obvious?" she laughs humorlessly. "I'm the lead of Vocal Adrenaline."

"I see that… Is that you've been doing for the past couple weeks?"

"Vocal Adrenaline is _the_ best show choir in America. They haven't lost a competition in five years, and that kind of success requires everything. _Everything_ that you are, everything that you have. All your time, all your effort. In addition to two class periods devoted to practice, I have yoga and aerobics at six in the morning, choreography for the entire afternoon, and three-hour vocal lessons after an hour-long dinner break, followed by weight training. So you'll have to excuse me if I don't have enough time to stop by and say hi when Coach Goolsby has me on an IV drip at eleven o'clock at night just to keep me standing."

She finally has gathered enough angry confidence to look him in the eye. Her anger drains away when she sees the genuine concern on his face.

"That's terrible," he exclaims, his expressive eyebrows raised high.

Lindsay lifts her chin defiantly. "It gets results."

"But what about your life?" Damian questions, taking a step towards her.

"Performing is my life," Lindsay declares. "I was born for it. Didn't you see me out there? I was born to be in the spotlight, and Vocal Adrenaline is the perfect place to be."

"What about your family and friends? What about your schoolwork?"

Lindsay lets out a small smile. "We don't have homework, and we're exempt from exams. Carmel High puts such a high value on the performing arts; they treat it like an education and career choice, so it's a fulltime job and a half. Being the lead of Vocal Adrenaline is going to be the cherry on the top of my application for NYADA."

"NYADA?"

"New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts. Best college in the country for performing arts." That's her ticket of out Ohio. She's been cooped up in this town all her life, but she's going to strike it big in New York. Or Los Angeles. Or Chicago. Just any big city outside of Ohio with Broadway-level theater productions. She's setting herself up for her entire future. What she does now will determine what she does for the rest of her life.

Damian takes a deep breath, and his eyebrows dance in his storm of emotions. "Lindsay, we're sixteen. We're not even done with high school. These are the times when we're allowed to be young, when we don't have as many responsibilities and we don't need to worry about our future. When we go to college, suddenly we'll have to start supporting ourselves, making our own decisions and taking responsibility for them. Our futures are _in the future_; but now, right now, while we're sixteen, this is the time to live. To be young. To live and to love." He takes another step closer to her, and her heart goes wild.

She needs to take a step back and put some room in between them so that she can properly explain that 1) she meant it when she said Vocal Adrenaline was a fulltime job and a half and she doesn't have time for him; 2) she can't be held behind by anybody; 3) she's still recovering from past relationship hurts. But she can't vocalize any of these properly when he's standing so close to her, his heartbroken blue eyes staring right at her.

Her traitorous heart thumps in her chest.

"I love you," Damian finishes softly.

She's can't handle this. "I need to go," Lindsay says stiffly, turning to leave.

Damian catches her hand. The touch is electrifying, and she is suddenly unable to move. "Please don't go," he whispers, and it breaks her heart.

"Vocal Adrenaline. It's my life now," she says sadly, and she means it. She'll admit to herself that she does love him (there! She said it!), but she needs to perform and she needs to succeed. That's what Vocal Adrenaline will do for her.

"Vocal Adrenaline will always be there for your future," he murmurs. "But they won't be there for _you_."

He's right. Her backup dancers would sooner stab her in the back for the solo than support her emotionally. And every time she performs opposite of Bryce, she has to paste on her show smile and pretend she's madly in love with him when every touch reminds her of her heartbreak, over and over again. She may love the limelight, but, even with McKynleigh's undying support and defense, Lindsay is still so lonely.

Damian pulls her hand, drawing her closer to him. "I will be there for you," he promises. "No matter what."

Just now, she's realizing how lonely she's been. She hadn't noticed it before when she was surrounded by friends such as McKynleigh and Samuel and Kay and her parents… but now, after her isolation as the lead of Vocal Adrenaline, she realizes how much emotional support she _doesn't_ have and how she's slowly been crumbling inside.

"I love you, Lindsay," Damian repeats, this time with even more emotional power behind it.

She finally turns into him, pulling close until they're only inches apart. "I'm lonely," she whispers, mostly to herself. Vocalizing it makes it more real. She can accept it when she's said it out loud. "Vocal Adrenaline makes me feel like shit all the time. I'm too fat, I'm too slow, I'm not flexible enough, I can't get the dance steps down fast enough, I can't sing loud enough, I can't sing well enough, I sound like a frog at the end of the day, I'm too clumsy, I'm too bitchy, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm so stupid… it's just hate, you know? People hate you because you're so good. Coach Goolsby heard me sing, saw me dance, got recommendations from Miki and my old voice teacher, and immediately made me the lead, even though I wasn't in Vocal Adrenaline at the time. Giselle was so pissed. She's been fighting for a solo for two years—plus she has the hots for Bryce—but I got to the top. She's been making my life a living hell since, but it's worth it, you know? Vocal Adrenaline is worth it. I'm going to succeed, I'm going to rise to the top, I'm going to NYADA."

"You've got to graduate high school first," Damian reminds her. "That's in two years. You don't have to spend those years alone."

"Remember what I said about 100%?" Lindsay says sharply, looking him straight in the eyes.

"I wouldn't still be here if I didn't mean it," Damian says, staring right back at her. "You've said before that love doesn't mean anything to you. But it means the world to me. Lindsay, I love you and I want to be there for you until you make it into NYADA." He pulls her into a hug. Shocked, she freezes up; but he doesn't let go, and his body heat eventually sinks into her clothes and loosens her up.

Damian is hugging her. After all the crap she's given him, he's still her because he loves her.

Damian loves her. And though it shouldn't mean anything, she can't help but feel something when he says it.

It slips out before she can stop it. "I love you too."

His head swivels around to meet her eyes. She freezes, not quite believing that she vocalized it. No. This can't happen. Vocal Adrenaline awaits outside. She can't…

But she does. Saying out loud really does make it more acceptable. She can't deny it.

And she can't deny the euphoric happiness that spreads through her body when he leans down and kisses her.

Soft and cautious at first. The last time he kissed her, she cried. Then, she hadn't known what to do. Now, she still doesn't know what to do. Her rational mind screams at her, telling her she can't balance Damian and Vocal Adrenaline at the same time.

Her heart tells her mind to shut up.

She leans into him, pushing up against him. He's taller up close, almost half a head taller, so she pulls down on his shirt to bring him closer. He puts his hands on her hips to brace himself, but complies and deepens the kiss.

He pulls away abruptly. "Are you sure?"

Lindsay gives him a deadpan _are you serious_ glare before she grabs a fistful of his shirt and pulls him back in. This kiss begins a bit more frantically—that's what Derik and Bryce were more accustomed to: the passionate, frenzied kisses and hands everywhere—but Damian takes it much slower, a far more romantic kiss with slow and sensuous movements. One warm hand rests on the side of her neck, keeping her close. She doesn't feel the need to fist his shirt, so she settles for wrapping her arms around his neck. This presses their bodies even tighter together, and she can feel all of his warmth radiating into her. It sets her body on fire, everything about him—his hot breath coming in bursts on her upper lip, the pressure of her breasts against his flat chest, even the feel of his dry lips in need of chapstick against her glossy ones. Her stage makeup is probably coming off on him, but he doesn't appear to care.

There's a crash, and Lindsay immediately jumps away from Damian in shock.

The classroom door is swinging open, and McKynleigh stands there with a betrayed _what the hell are you doing_ look on her face. "Coach Goolsby has been looking everywhere for you," she says snippily. "We're leaving."

"Oh, I…" Lindsay glances back at Damian, who just smiles encouragingly. Finally making up her mind, Lindsay smiles back and grabs his hand. "Miki…"

McKynleigh puts on a show smile so fake that Lindsay can see the disapproving _what the hell do you think you're doing_ look straight through it. It makes her heart wilt and begin to doubt herself. After all, McKynleigh is her best friend and confidante; she probably knows Lindsay best. "You're going to have to tell me everything about how you two SUDDENLY got together!" Miki gushes. "_Everything_. On the bus ride of defeat back to Carmel High." Lindsay and Damian both blush, and McKynleigh amends, "Well, we had it coming to us. Congrats on stealing back the show," she grins, this time genuinely.

"Talk to you later," Lindsay promises, pulling away. Before her fingers can slip out of his, though, he pulls her back—just for a quick kiss. Then he pushes her off, a huge smile on his face. In response, her heart beats just a little bit faster.

And then McKynleigh takes her other hand and drags her away to the bus ride of defeat.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_It's been a long time coming, but we've finally got DAMSAY! So... there better be more reviews for this culminating chapter, seeing as there were 500 hits for last chapter and one review (thanks **xxBlaineXKurtxx**!)_


	39. Edge of Glory III

Marissa's in the middle of throwing her milk jug in the recycle bin when as two hands rest on her shoulders. She swivels around to see Bryce's glowing face. "How you doing, babe?"

"What are you doing here?" she asks, just bordering on accusatory. After all, he and his show choir just barely humiliated her friends. And by underhanded tactics, nonetheless.

"Sorry, baby girl," Bryce says, immediately apologetic. "I know it was sneaky, but Coach Goolsby ordered it. That's just the way Carmel High is run."

"You didn't have to participate," Marissa persists, sliding the rest of the contents of her tray into the trash.

"I'm sorry, Marissa, but there are just as many backup dancers willing to step up and take my spot. The different between me and them is that they're a lot more ruthless, willing to do shit like rig your choir room with water balloons or throw eggs at your star singer. Think about me as the lesser of many, many evils."

Marissa glances at him disbelievingly, but he seems genuine. "Seriously?"

"I swear, I told them not to do anything before our performance. You still might want to check your piano for live critters though, since we lost anyways." He smiles. "So, are you going to introduce me to your lovely friends?"

"What?"

"Those people giving me the evil eye over there. I find that personal introductions by the girlfriend are usually the fastest, least painful way to win people over to our side."

Marissa shoots his a skeptical look. "What, we're going out now?"

Bryce looks back at her with an equally confused look. "We weren't?"

"You haven't even taken me out on an official date yet," Marissa says jokingly.

And just like that, Bryce drops to one knee. "Marissa… will you go to dinner on the river with me on Friday night?"

Marissa feels the heat rising to her cheeks, and all she can think about is her peers milling around her, judging her and her interactions with Bryce. "Stand up," she hisses, trying to pull him up. "This looks really awkward. Everybody knows you're—"

Bryce folds her hands into his large ones, completely surrounding them in warmth. "Who cares about what anybody else thinks?" he asks in all seriousness, staring straight into her eyes. "I know I don't. My team is judging me right now, and I don't care. All I care about is how you feel, because, Marissa, I've never felt like this around anybody else before. Marissa, you're beautiful, and I'm willing to do anything to take you out on that date. So what do you say? Dinner on Friday night?"

Marissa bites her lip. She can't deny that she feels the same way too—Bryce makes her feel special, and it's been a long while since she's felt like this before. Cameron was just too long ago, and she's disillusioned with the possibility he offers her now. She just needs some distance from Cameron before she can be willing to give him another chance. Bryce, though, makes her feel so many different emotions at once.

So what's stopping her?

Her friends. They still think that she should be with Cameron. The problem is, they don't know her history with Cameron. Not even Hannah. She and Cameron had their secret relationship for a year and never, ever told Hannah. They don't know the history, so why should they have such a huge say in whom she does or doesn't date?

Besides, it's not like she hasn't noticed that Hannah has totally been crushing on Cameron for the past couple months. If not longer.

She holds her hand out, and Bryce takes it. "Let's go do introductions," she laughs nervously.

Bryce gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry about it," he grins.

They walk over to the New Directions huddle, fingers intertwined.

* * *

><p>Hannah watches their entire interaction. As the leader of Project GCAMBT, she knows everything about the Bryce-Marissa-Cameron situation. She knows Bryce is in Vocal Adrenaline—he's the <em>lead<em> of Vocal Adrenaline. Her first assumption had been that he was trying to pull a Jesse St. James, but Bryce has still pursued Marissa even when she's not in New Directions anymore… so he can't be doing it just to infiltrate the Glee club and break hearts, like Rachel accuses Vocal Adrenaline of doing.

Marissa and Bryce are talking on friendly terms… OH MY GOSH HE JUST GOT DOWN ON ONE KNEE. Then Marissa pulls him up in embarrassment, they talk a bit longer, and then she offers her hand. She offers it first, and then Bryce takes it.

So yeah, they're probably pretty close. They're holding hands after all.

"What more confirmation do you need?"

Hannah jumps and turns to see Quinn by her side. "Huh?"

Quinn's face is calculating. "I did some snooping around," she replies coolly, turning her head to stare Hannah down. "The guy you like—Cameron—he has the hots for Marissa. The problem is, she's obviously made her decision. And it's not him. Now it's about time to make yours."

Hannah just blinks at Quinn. "You did what?"

Quinn grabs Hannah's arm. "I know that you don't want to risk breaking your heart if Cameron denies you. But what do you think you've been doing this entire time? You've been heading this project to get two people together who are definitely not going to get together." She nods at Bryce and Marissa, weaving through the tables with their hands interlocked. "And the entire time, you've been breaking your own heart. Every single second you push your Project Guh Cambit or whatever forward, you're smashing your own heart. Why would you do that?"

"I just… I just want what's best for him," Hannah laments.

"There's a point where you've got to stop sacrificing yourself for others and start attending to your own needs. Because if you don't, nobody's going to do it for you. So listen up, Hannah. What's best for you?" Quinn gestures at the oncoming couple. "You'll never know until you try."

"He doesn't love me," Hannah states flatly.

"Boys are absolutely clueless," Quinn replies. "He won't know until you tell him, so tell him. Let him think about you and what you mean to him. Whatever he says, it can't be any worse than what you're doing to yourself right now by sitting back and doing nothing."

"Hi guys," Marissa greets, stopping next to Sunshine and Brittany. "This is Bryce."

"Our competition," Santana snipes from Brittany's other side. "Getting beat at your own twisted game—don't it feel great?"

"Hey, I come now as Bryce, not as Vocal Adrenaline's lead," Bryce disclaims. "I like to keep my personal and professional life firmly apart."

"Professional Bryce still got his ass kicked," Matheus snarks, turning to give Sunshine a high five.

Sunshine doesn't notice him; a weak smile drips off her face, like lightweight petals off a wilted flower.

Meanwhile, Hannah has a brief internal struggle. Cameron's her best friend, and he loves Marissa. But Marissa is also her friend, and she's made her own choice. Therefore, as a friend to Cameron, Hannah needs to explain to him that Marissa isn't available anymore. Encouraging Marissa to cheat on her boyfriend with Cameron is not a healthy option.

That's what she needs to do, as a friend. That's what's best for all people involved: Cameron, Marissa, and Bryce included.

Baby steps. Her own feelings for Cameron can come later.

She squeezes Quinn's hand. "Thanks," she whispers, before walking over to wrap Bryce in a big bear hug. "I'm Hannah," she smiles, glancing at Marissa. The grateful smile that Marissa shoots her is all the reassurance Hannah needs.

Her friends come first.

* * *

><p>Sunshine has to take a moment by herself. Matheus looks at her in concern when she excuses herself from the New Directions' victory huddle, but she just smiles at him and says she's going to the bathroom. It's the only thing that she can think of to prevent Matheus from following her. He's a great friend—he always seems to know what she's feeling and what to do in response to cheer her up—but right now, she just wants to go mull over her own thoughts by herself.<p>

She had the spotlight. She had that glorious feeling of people applauding her for her voice. McKinley High broke out of its passive apathy to give her a standing ovation. But even more exhilarating was the chance to finally stand in that cleared area and perform—that in itself was amazing enough. For once, she was up front and center, with all her friends behind her supporting her all the way. _That_ was the most amazing feeling ever.

But she didn't even get to finish. She didn't even get to let loose and show them what she was really all about. Finn and Rachel swept back in and stole that from her. Even people like Mercedes and Santana stole any scrap of attention that she once had. She was rudely shoved into background vocals without even as much as a _please and thank you_. Nobody congratulated her on the counterstrike save afterwards either, other than her friends.

New Directions sucks. Sunshine's seriously considering quitting; if they can't appreciate her for her talent or even just her risk-taking, then they don't deserve her presence.

The hallways she's walking down now are empty—this is the way to Principal Figgins' office, and nobody likes to loiter around here. Except Figgins is probably on his lunch break too, so nobody will hear if she breaks out into song. So she explodes into the final melody, giving it her all.

_Baby,'cause you're the one that I love! Baby, you're the one that I need!  
><em>_You're the only one I see! Baby, baby, it's you!  
><em>_You're the one that gives your all! You're the one I always call!  
><em>_When I need you, baby, everything stops! Finally, you put my love on top!_

Slow handclaps. Sunshine whirls around.

At the end of the hallway stands a rather imposing man in a leather jacket with a Bluetooth device attached to his ear. He walks over to her slowly. "Impressive performance you gave there."

"Who are you?" Sunshine asks warily. She's aware that she's at the end of a deserted hallway and this man has this intense, hungry look in his eyes.

"Dustin Goolsby, coach of Vocal Adrenaline, at your service. I saw your incredible performance and your clever tactics in taking back our show from us. I also saw how your team members from New Directions jumped in and brushed you off—and I saw how you just accepted it, like it's been done before."

It's true, but Sunshine is still wary. This is the coach of Vocal Adrenaline, after all. But what he said is very true. This man is very perceptive. "Yeah?"

"Just from those three minutes, Sunshine Corazon, I know that there is a lot of talent in you that's just going to waste. And do you know why? It's not because there's better people in the club. We at Vocal Adrenaline have gone up against New Directions before and I've heard the voices of Rachel Berry, Finn Hudson, Mercedes Jones, Kurt Hummel, Quinn Fabray, Artie Abrams, and Noah Puckerman."

"Puck."

"What?"

"He likes to be called Puck. And how do you know their names? How do you know_ my_ name?"

"It doesn't matter. The point is, I have experience training kids in the best singing and dancing machines they can be. And you know what? I see so much raw potential in you. It just has to be honed, sharpened, trained, and displayed. That's how you grow: you use your voice up front, not in the back to the harmony of some lesser singers. That's right, I said it. You're better than them, and the reason they won't let you up front is because they know you'll steal the spotlight from them."

"You already have two leads," Sunshine counters.

"Not anymore," Mr. Goolsby smiles, and Sunshine realizes that she implied that she was open to Vocal Adrenaline. Which she isn't. She can't leave her friends at McKinley High. Mr. Goolsby continues, "You noticed that Lindsay froze in the middle of her performance? She ruined the entire performance, and that knocks her down quite a few pegs. So I have an opening now waiting for you."

"I didn't say I was interested," Sunshine reiterates. "And I—"

"I don't think you understand that a lead position in Vocal Adrenaline, a five-time Nationals champion, is going to be infinitely more impressive than a mention as a background dancer at some upstart Glee club. Sure, your New Directions has a lot of potential and star singers, but you're all so packed in there that only one's going to shine, and the rest are going to burn out without ever being seen. Is that going to be you?"

He talks so quickly, Sunshine can't fit in the rest of her sentence. "…I can't leave my friends here."

"You mean the ones that shove you in the back corner, take credit for your ideas, and are afraid of your greater talent?"

"No," Sunshine retorts. He's getting on her nerves; he might be right, but he can't just come here and expect to drop everything for him. "I meant my other friends. The other ones who did the counter performance with me, and who supported me and backed me up."

"And if they're truly great friends, they'll appreciate a much better use of your talent. Sunshine, if they're really your friends, they're not going to hate you for going to another school."

"I'll be their competition if I join Vocal Adrenaline. I'll be betraying them." Darn, there she goes again, insinuating that she's interested. Really, because transferring to Carmel High would be absolutely ridiculous.

"But again, if they're really your friends…" Mr. Goolsby argues.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Sunshine finally explodes. "I'm fine where I am now. I like being with my friends—the kind people who immediately welcomed me during my first day in America—and I don't need to transfer schools and get into a new show choir. I don't like that you're trying to twist my—"

"No, no no no, Sunshine, I didn't mean to come across as rude," Mr. Goolsby amends. "I just saw talent and I meant to let it shine. Just know that there's a spot available to you on Vocal Adrenaline. Also, Carmel High has quite the budget, do you know? Much more than fancy lights and a surprisingly large costume budget. No, we have such a large booster club and connections with the government that I can assure you that, if you join us, we can pull some strings and get that green card approved for your mother. I also hear that she's looking for a better job; Carmel High has quite a few administrative positions open. I think it's within your family's best interests to investigate—but hey, I'm not pressuring you. Just know that those opportunities are available to you."

Sunshine stares at him, bug-eyed. "Green card? You can do that?"

Mr. Goolsby just smiles that intense smile. "I'm sure we can make it work. In fact," he pulls out a Blackberry, "Why don't we just put that in the works right now? Think of it as… a little gift. For an incredible performance."

There's absolutely no way a simple high school could have such power in the American government. There would have to be something wrong with the government, then, and that can't be the case, because the American government is perfect. "Now I know you're bullshitting me," Sunshine scoffs, finally walking past Mr. Goolsby and towards the lunch room, where her friends are probably wondering why she's taking so long in the 'bathroom'. "And even if it did get through, that would just speak of the low morals and lack of honor of your school. I'm an honest person from a hardworking Asian family; all my mom has ever done is work for what she gets, just so we can come here and get an American education. I don't want to be in an environment where you cheat and tear down the other competition just to win, and I don't want your bribe."

"Just think about it, Sunshine Corazon," Mr. Goolsby calls after her. "We'll adapt to you because you're worth it. I see your talent and I know how to make it shine even brighter. If you work at Vocal Adrenaline and put your everything into it, Vocal Adrenaline will put its everything into you. That's something that you'll never get at New Directions, no matter how hard you work for it."

Sunshine returns to the lunch room just as the New Directions group is walking out. Finn smiles when he sees her. "Great save, Sunny," he grins, patting her on the head. With Mr. Goolsby's traitorous thoughts still whirling around in her head, Finn's gesture of kindness feels slightly demeaning, which takes some of the gratitude away from it. (Then again, he's about two feet taller than she is…) Then Rachel pulls Finn away, shooting a somewhat fearful, fake cheery look at Sunshine, and it all comes crashing back on top of her.

She'll never make it in New Directions.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Waaaaaaaa who's seen the season finale for Glee? Too many cliffhangers... _

_So I found out that Nikki Anders sung the original version of "Roots Before Branches." How cool is that? (Nikki Anders is a vocalist and vocal arranger for Glee, as well as the vocal coach and mentor of the The Glee Project!) Neat, huh? I'm actually digging the original version. Funny how, even though I love/hate Glee and its usual unoriginal covers of queasily popular songs, the show (and Pandora) still leads me to great artists._

_Hey, so Glee Project Season 2 premieres in two weeks! So who's ready for a batch of 14 new characters? ...I'm not quite there, but I've got some preliminary sketches. Possibly beginning next chapter :) Suggestions on how to incorporate the new characters are very, VERY welcome._

_Thanks to all the reviewers:  
><strong>beachbum2960<br>**__**Moni is awesome - **hoo boy, this story's almost a year old! **  
>Hallee<strong> - Brittana's canon, so no problem there! Faberry... well, I've hinted at it... we'll see ;) (Though after that Finchel finale... *sniff*)**  
>xxBlaineXKurtxx - <strong>Thanks for your constant reviews, you don't know how much I appreciate them!**  
><strong>__**CartoonistGirl6  
><strong>__**TheGleekFromDeathlyHallows** - what better way to procrastinate studying for exams than to read fanfiction! I do it all the time. Thanks for the compliment!  
><em>_**cowboy-mcginty** - Uhhh, Damian and Brittany... I was going somewhere with that, but then I got writer's block and I really wanted to skip forward to Damsay. So I did.  
><em>_**Calypso C** - bahaha I just noticed that big shiny blue REVIEW button. Very attractive...**  
><strong>__**Headstrong-crazydays** - I will never stop updating! ...even though I may take super-long breaks... I promise I'll wrap this story up at some point  
><em>_**perfectlyODD - **FINALLY indeed! When I first started this story, I had two plans: Cameron's apology song to Marissa through Parachute's "The Mess I Made" (the inspiration for this story, actually) and Damsay! So now that I've finally completed both objectives, I'm sort of at a loss of what to do. Especially with 14 new characters entering the equation - how am I going to integrate TGP2 with TGP1 and Glee characters? Haha I've been watching TGP's Youtube channel, looking up the previews and interviews and get-to-know-_, so we'll see._

_Give me some time and I'll figure it out._


	40. Bleed It Out I

_A/N: Sorry for the time jump, but I didn't want to interrupt the flow of the Vocal Adrenaline invasion and Damsay's make up/make out session. (Plus I really just wanted Damsay to FINALLY get together.) So here's a background scene that happened simultaneously with the Vocal Adrenaline/New Directions territory battle. _

* * *

><p><strong>A couple minutes earlier:<strong>

Artie wheels himself hurriedly down the hall. Last year, Vocal Adrenaline had TP'd the choir room and broken into the auditorium to present an intimidating performance of _Another One Bites the Dust_. This year… marching right into the outdoor commons during lunch and putting on another dance-heavy performance, and hacking the public announcement system to do it! Artie can't even imagine how they even convinced the Audio-Visual club to participate.

It soon becomes quite obvious. Two members lie prone on the floor of the audio office, their entire bodies bound with seran wrap and toilet paper.

"Oh thank goodness!" one gasps when Artie rolls into the room. "Oh god, Artie, these girls in freaky dresses busted into the room and—hey, what are you doing? Help us!"

Artie completely ignores the guy, carefully navigating his way around the bodies.

Unfortunately, he still manages to run over the other AV member's fingers.

"AAAARGH!"

"Sorry!" Artie apologizes as he stops in front the audio control panel. A flash drive has been inserted into the computer; Artie tears it out, replacing it with his own USB. Within seconds, he's got Beyonce's _Love on Top_ playing instead.

Mission accomplished.

"Hey Artie!" the first guy yells. Artie doesn't recognize him (but then again, pretty much everything but his nose and mouth is concealed by toilet paper.) "A little help?"

"Just because you're the president of AV Club, doesn't give you the right to roll over us—literally!" the person with squished fingers squeals in a high-pitched voice.

"I've been tied up for so long, I can't feel my legs anymore…"

"Oh no, what a nightmare," Artie responds sarcastically. "Hate to break it to ya, but I'm not exactly the best guy to help." He tries to lean down towards them, but can't reach far enough without almost toppling out of his chair.

"Then go get help!" the high-pitched AV member yells. "And DON'T run over my fingers!"

"Gotcha," Artie replies, meticulously wheeling around the prone bodies. Right when he reaches the door, however, Sam runs up.

"Artie, what's going on?" Sam says, skidding to a stop. He'd seen Artie wheel off in a hurry from the outdoor commons and followed quickly, figuring that he might as well follow his friend in case the wheelchair-bound boy needed assistance.

"Vocal Adrenaline broke into the audio office and tied up those guys over there," Artie motions. Sam slides around Artie and immediately spots the two guys on the floor.

"Oh god, are you guys okay?" he exclaims, kneeling down and tearing toilet paper away from a boy's face. The seran wrap wrapped around his torso is a bit harder, but Artie fishes scissors out of his backpack.

"How am I going to play the guitar with broken fingers?" the other person moans.

"Stop complaining, Danny," the first guy barks as Sam kneels down and begins to cut seran wrap with Artie's scissors. The boy gasps as blood flows into his arms again. "Thanks… uh…"

"Sam," Sam introduces.

"Michael," the boy replies, trying to work circulation back into his numb limb. "I'd shake your hand if I could actually control my arm."

"What happened?"

Michael snorts. "Danny and I were messing around in here when an army of super minions surprised us. We didn't stand a chance."

Sam grins at what he thinks might be a video game reference. "So... they obliterated your nexus?"

In the background, Danny makes barfing noises and groans, "League of Legends, oh great."

Michael pulls his arms free from his toilet paper bindings, grinning. "Man, I didn't think anybody would catch that."

Sam does an impression of a gruff soldier. "I used to be a crazy gamer like you, but then I got an arrow to the knee."

Michael literally laughs out loud and punches Sam on the shoulder lightly. "You know what? You're a pretty cool guy. Wanna hang out at my house this afternoon?"

"Yo Sam!" Artie yells from the hallway. "Tina just texted me. We gotta retake the performance from Vocal Adrenaline!"

Sam hands the scissors to Michael, who's pulling his legs free. "Yeah, I'll talk to you later," Sam promises.

* * *

><p><strong>A couple hours later, after school, on the same day:<strong>

"Tina? I really need to talk."

"Sure, Sunny, just give me a moment." Tina shoulders her cell phone as she struggles to watch cookies in the oven and make a PBJ and chocolate milk at the same time. Her little brother Benjamin absolutely refused to eat the snow fungus soup their mother left behind, so Tina's sneaking him some real food. She doesn't mind the semi-clear sweet gelatin, even if it is sort of slimy and a little crunchy at the same time.

She cuts the square sandwich diagonally, stirs the milk, and calls, "Benjamin! Food's ready!" Then, as her seven-year old brother whisks the snack away and sits in front of the living room TV again, Tina plops down on a stool in front of the oven, pours herself some of the sweet soup, and prepares to listen. "What's up, Sunny?"

"You've been in the Glee club for a year longer than I have. Does… does Mr. Schue ever give solos to anybody else?"

"Well, he tries to make it a fair competition. If somebody else wants a solo, he'll have a diva-off or tryouts or something."

"But we haven't had tryouts the entire time I've been here."

Tina shrugs. "I guess nobody wants the solos as bad as Rachel does."

"But doesn't Mr. Schuester ever think that somebody else might want to sing?"

Tina thinks she hears a bit of longing in Sunshine's voice. "Do you want to sing?"

"Well, I meant… I was talking about people like Mercedes or Quinn. They complain all the time, but Mr. Schuester hasn't had any of those tryouts."

"I don't know. Quinn's voice isn't really all that good unless she warms up a ton first. Mercedes is too nice. And like I said, nobody wants the spotlight more than Rachel. It's practically her life. And you have to admit, Rachel is pretty good."

There's a long pause, and Tina wonders if she said something wrong. Eventually, Sunshine answers, "Yeah. She is. But… there are better."

Tina almost chokes on her soup. "Blasphemy!"

"Huh?"

"Uh, nothing. It's just, uh, nobody's ever said straight up that, um…"

"Do you really believe Rachel's the best vocalist we have?"

"Frankly? Not necessarily. But the thing is, she puts everything into her performances. She was born for the stage. I was one of the club's original members, along with Mercedes, Kurt, and Artie. Out of all of us, Rachel was the one who threw her entire life into the club to keep it afloat. We all had other dreams—Artie was in AV club, Kurt had his clothes, Mercedes had church and a social life, I had poetry and fanfiction—"

"What?"

"Forget I said that. The point is, to Rachel, singing and performing was it. Even now, when she has friends in the Glee club, her life still revolves around that stage."

"That's a nice story. So what?"

"As Rachel's friend, I'm willing to give up my slim chances to perform in the Glee club, so I can back Rachel up. Because she's—"

"Okay, that's fine for you. _But_ _I'm not Rachel's friend_. The first time we met, she sent me to a crack house. Why? **Because I'm better than she is and she knows it.** And you can spin a touching story about how Rachel will literally keel over and die if that limelight isn't focused on her, but that doesn't change the fact that there is a lot of talent behind her going to waste."

Tina is just a little stung at Sunshine's suddenly hostile tone. "Sunshine, I was just explaining my reasoning for—"

"But you shouldn't! You've got an amazing voice, but nobody cares! All Rachel wants is that you stand behind her and stare at her in teary adoration and harmonize with her. That's what she literally told me the first time we met and, because she thought I couldn't speak English, told me very plainly what she expects all of us 'extras' to do. It didn't bother me then, but now it drives me crazy—because that's literally what she expects. We're just all stepping stones on her way to Broadway, never mind all the dreams she's stomping on so she can live out her own. Tina, I'm sick of it. You might be able to stand her because you've spent more time with her, but… today, when she stole our performance, she took the freakin' credit. She slid in front of me and took over and didn't even talk to me… us about it afterwards. She just… she… augh!"

Tina holds her phone away from her ear as Sunshine actually roars. All this time she'd thought Sunshine was just a ball of exuberant happiness—turns out there's a lot of resentment under all the fluff. Tina just never noticed, and she's been neglecting her friend's needs in favor of boosting Rachel's incredibly low self-esteem.

"I'm sorry," Sunshine apologizes, her voice shy and soft and broken all of a sudden. "I... I just don't know who else to talk to."

"No, Sunny… I'm sorry too. I didn't know that you felt that way about the pecking order. It does really suck."

"Yeah. Sectionals are coming up in a week, and all the performances we have planned center around Rachel and Finn. It's not fair. Damian's accent is cute when he sings, you've got this pure, sweet tone to your voice, Mike can dance _and_ sing, and I can hold notes longer and louder than Rachel. But we're not going to do anything more than mold our faces into plastic smiles and dance in the back row. We don't deserve that. And I'm not going to stand for it."

Tina's anxiety bounces off the charts. "Don't quit Glee club. Please. We already lost Marissa, and look how much she's dropped out of our lives already. We can't lose you." Tina grins weakly. "You're our Sunshine."

Sunshine is quiet for a really, really long time. Tina's about to insert some more groveling into the silence, but then a foreign smell wafts in her nose.

Smoke.

"Crap! Cookies!" Sunshine's confused reply is lost as Tina drops her phone on the counter, reaches for an oven mitt, and pulls out smoking lumps of charcoal from the oven. "Crap, crap, shoot, OW that's hot, stupid, my god, crap…"

"Tina? Are you okay? Tina?"

Tina snatches her phone off the counter. "So sorry—I forgot about the cookies. But… please don't leave New Directions, just because of Rachel. Sectionals may only be two weeks away, but last year at Sectionals, we pulled two performances out of our asses, practiced for twenty minutes, and won anyways. Let's talk to Mr. Schue, I'll bet he—"

"It's not just that," Sunshine says quietly. "I… I have another opportunity. Somebody offered me a chance to sing lead."

"Really? That's awesome! What are you waiting for?" Then Tina's mind catches up. "Wait, why does it require you quitting Glee club? Can't you balance Glee and this theater production?"

Once again, Sunshine is abnormally quiet, and Tina's stomach drops. "Sunny? Is everything okay?"

Sunshine unleashes a torrent of desperate words, almost pleading with Tina. "Vocal Adrenaline's coach saw me perform and he saw Rachel take over but he says that I'm better than her and he says that there's an opening for the female lead for Vocal Adrenaline. He says I don't have to try out, and I don't even have to start as a backup dancer. Tina, he wants me up front and center because I'm that good."

Tina is torn between supporting her friend—after all, this is the opportunity of a lifetime—and trying to snatch her back selfishly. It'll be worse than Marissa; at least Tina has a class with the redhead, and they live three blocks away from each other and sometimes ride the bus together. If Sunshine moves to Carmel, interaction with her fellow Asian will be limited to weekends.

Tina can't keep the accusing tone out of her voice, and what she intended to be a friendly confrontation quickly deteriorates into an angry condemnation. "Are you serious, Sunshine? Are you really going to leave us for Vocal Adrenaline? They might have a huge booster club that showers them with cars and money, lots of fancy dancers, and a five-time Nationals championship, but we're your friends, Sunshine. Are you really going to ditch us for five minutes of fame?"

Sunshine's voice is tiny when she replies. "Tina… Mr. Goolsby called my mom this morning. He said that Carmel High would cut back on the benefits packet for all the other members, just so they can buy our family a condo with free utilities. Now this goes way beyond what I want; as much as I love you guys—you and Mike, Damian, Hannah, Matheus, Marissa—as much as I want to stay with you guys, Mr. Goolsby is offering a better lifestyle for my mom and my sister. I have loyalty to my friends, but I have my duty to my family as well. You know that—Asian honor and all that crap, but when it really boils down to it, my mom sacrificed so much move our family from the Philippines to Ohio, and what am I to stand between my mom's current job as a nanny to three spoiled brats versus an accounting job for Vocal Adrenaline? Or our crappy apartment versus a condo? Somebody threw a beer bottle through our kitchen window last night, and there's glass everywhere and it stinks of beer. I… Tina, I…"

Sunshine's already made the decision, Tina realizes. Now she's just trying to convince her friends that it's the right thing to do.

And it is the right thing to do. As much as Tina's selfishness wants to snap at Sunshine for making the choice without even telling her friends about the opportunity, the proper context really puts things into perspective. And Tina can't condemn her friend for giving in. Not when better living arrangements and an occupation have been offered as bribes.

That's what they are. Bribes. But they're bribes that Sunshine can't afford to give up.

One last attempt. The memory of Jesse St. James' treachery is still burned into Tina's mind, and she doesn't want Sunshine to go through that. "Sunny, can't you see what Vocal Adrenaline is doing? They're trying to tear us apart. They tried to demoralize us during lunch yesterday, and, even though we beat them—you beat them, Sunshine—they're still trying to knock us down. Don't you see that they're all about cheating and lying and backstabbing and breaking people's hearts? They TP'd our choir room and egged Rachel last year, and she's vegan! How do you know they won't try and do the same thing to you?"

"I don't know. I don't know! But… I just wanted to talk to you about it before I…" Sunshine stops suddenly, and when she speaks again, it sounds like she's on the verge of tears. "Tina, can we still be friends?"

A surge of compassion jolts through Tina. She snorts in surprise. "If you seriously think I'm going to hate you just because you're switching schools and becoming our competition, you don't know me that well." Then, in a softer tone, "Of course, Sunny; we'll always be friends. Besides, free housing? No way. And that's so exciting, your mom will have a real job! A-a-and, even if ev-verything d-doesn't pan out…" Tina tries to keep her voice level as she furiously wipes tears away. God, why does she have to be so emotional sometimes? "Even if everything doesn't p-pan out, y-you'll still get t-to sing lead in Voc-cal Adrenaline…"

"Tina?"

"No, I'm sor-sorry. I get overemotional. It's j-just… if you transfer, there's no turning back. Even if you explain things, some people in the New Directions will still see you as betraying us. And that's what Vocal Adrenaline wants."

Sunshine doesn't say anything for a moment, and Tina uses the pause to pull herself together.

"Truthfully," Sunshine confesses, "That's what I wanted to do. Sing a big **F U **to New Directions and take off." Tina laughs weakly, but Sunshine continues, "Not literally, but show them what they just lost. But I see what you mean about Vocal Adrenaline and their tactics, and I intend to do something about that. Mr. Goolsby said that they'll change things for me."

Tina doubts it; there's only so much they'll change, and deception is pretty much Vocal Adrenaline's middle name. Still, Sunshine's cheerful presence might be able to do something to influence things… an idea formulates in Tina's mind. "Okay, Sunny. I've got a plan."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Yes, this story is still following canon somewhat. Sunshine's leaving the New Directions, Kurt's deciding between McKinley and Dalton... guess where Sam eventually ends up :) That being said, most of this fiction is AU now, following TGP characters._

_So I'm sort of jumping the gun by introducing TGP2 characters when I haven't really seen them in action yet. (Who's ready for Season 2?) It's a little different this year; last summer, I'd already watched the first three episodes before I even began considering starting the story - so I had a loose idea of the characters. Now... pardon me if some TGP2 characters in this story don't turn out like their real-life counterparts. I'll try to adjust as I go along. Also, who knows? Some of my favorite people (based off watching interviews, Youtube accounts, blogs, and the casting call) might not make it past the first episode. I'll be sad, but that just gives me more flexibility for this story's characterization of them. (Let's hope Abraham doesn't get dropped... Asian represent!)_

_Thank you my lovely reviewers! A couple spoiler dumps... oh well! I'll just reply personally next time... but I like giving you guys public credit :)  
><strong>TheGleekFromDeathlyHallows<strong> - _Nobody really ships Bryce with anybody since he left so early, so _I'm just giving Bryce a little love :) And trying out new pairings. Oh Hannah... what I have planned for her is not pretty. Straight from one love polygon into another. As for Sunshine, I'm not the craziest Chaster out there but I wish she'd been incorporated into the show like Sam. They both started out as recurring characters, after all.  
><strong>Cola-Flavoured-Sherbet<strong> - Thanks for the Abraham suggestion! I totally took that idea and developed it, so thanks! As for Artie and Ali... I feel like it's too cliched to pair the two wheelies together. Just like pairing short people together, or two Asians together... oh wait. Damn.  
><strong>perfectlyODD<strong> - YESSSS.  
><strong>Qwerty<strong> - The possibility of Camrissa... I don't know yet. Depends on how loudly reviewers protest :)  
><strong>LovelyChaster<strong> - Chasters in France, sweet! I feel like my Sunshine isn't sunshiny all the time though... she has a dark side muahaha.  
><strong>cowboy-McGinty<strong> - Yeah, my plans for Matheus and Hannah are not happy - for the most part. I still believe in happy endings. (I just might take a while to get there. Look at Damsay: 20 chapters. Hoo boy.)  
><strong>xxBlaineXKurtxx<strong> - yaY indeed.  
><strong>polarpi<strong> - Thanks for coming back around to reviewing again! Hm, I thought I mentioned explicitly that Miki was in VA. For Sunshine: the dark side has cookies!  
><em>

_And choco chip cookies are good. I like Andes mints in mine._


	41. Bleed It Out II

_A/N: A reminder that this fanfiction has long since strayed from canon. In this story, the Hummel-Hudson wedding does not take place before Sectionals. Especially since the next batch of The Glee Project season 2 contenders are rolling in… Glee season 2 canon has long since been abandoned. _

_And hey, speaking of TGP2 contenders, I'm very open to suggestions on what roles they can play in the current story! It's a lot of people to fit in..._

_A final word: 991 reviews! WOW. I promised a double-post once we hit 1000 reviews, and I'm still holding that promise now. Reviews are love, and I love to give love back :)_

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><p><strong><span>Featured Songs<span>:**

"Bleed It Out" by Linkin Park

* * *

><p>"One and two and three and four! Step-a-drop-a-step-a-drop, look, look, Gaga!"<p>

Lindsay bares her teeth, her limbs splayed in awkward angles. Vocal Adrenaline continues to sweep through the Sectionals dance routine while Dakota Stanley inspects their poses. Up front, Giselle smirks in Lindsay's direction. She'd practically screamed, "FINALLY!" when Goolsby passed on the lead's position to her, even though Coach had attached _temporary_ to the title. So far, in the past couple days, the long-time competitor hasn't hesitated in shoving her bragging rights in the entire club's faces, creating quite a few opponents and enemies.

Lindsay's actually sort of relieved. Nobody's breathing down her back; nobody's looking for a possible goof-up to report; nobody's trying to tear her down. She doesn't have to pretend like she loves Bryce; she doesn't need to be perfect every single second; she doesn't have to throw around her weight to keep people in their place.

She's been demoted to understudy.

So what if she doesn't get to belt Lady Gaga up front, or drown in the sound of applause. So what if she's disappeared into the background, no better than a background vocalist and dancer. So what if some girls continue to jeer at her even though she's fallen from the edge of glory.

...

…It was lonely at the top anyways, Lindsay assures herself. Besides, now that she's in the back, she actually gets to see McKynleigh during practice. She wasn't aware of how much she didn't see her best friend until she was demoted; after all, when you're singing up front, you never look behind at the background dancers.

And that's what she was missing: the incredibly complex dance routine going on behind her. Lindsay thought vocal lessons and belting was a job and a half, but it turns out the background dancing is just as difficult!

The problem is, Lindsay actually can't dance as well as she sings, which means that she better step up her game fast. In Vocal Adrenaline, if you're not a singing lead, then you better be a flexible dancer. Lindsay still needs to maintain her position of understudy—if not though competence, then with a whole lot of BITCH.

She promptly demonstrates her point when she oversteps a bit while whirling and crashes into an adjacent dancer, who had failed to spin along with the team.

"Watch it!" Lindsay automatically snaps. Dancers usually crash into _her_. Actually, that's probably what happened. The collision isn't her fault; it's the other dancer's fault for forgetting the routine.

"I'm sorry," the girl on the floor immediately apologizes, and Lindsay briefly feels a bit of guilt; after all, she just knocked over a newbie. But hey, she's still got a position to maintain as understudy. She can't go around being nice and helping people. By opening up, you expose yourself and make it easier for your enemies to tear you down.

"Pay attention and learn the routine, and you won't have to be. Sectionals is coming up in two weeks; you can't afford to make mistakes," Lindsay snorts, continuing the routine so as to not attract Goolsby's attention. The girl quickly rejoins as well, her intimidation showing through her reserved movements.

Coach Goolsby lets the team out early. 10:30pm. Lindsay's mind whirs with excitement. She might be able to get six hours of sleep tonight!

Or maybe she'll call Damian. She could probably spare ten minutes of sleep for him, no?

A heavy hand lands on Lindsay's shoulder, pulling her out of her happy thoughts. "Hey, you," a voice growls. "_You_ bowled over my friend. What were you doing yelling at her?"

Lindsay shakes off the boy's shoulder and turns to face him completely. A cap of caramel brown hair swooshed to the side Bieber-style, crazy biceps, square jaw. Good-looking and looks like a pretty chill guy, except he's sort of mad now. "_She's_ the one who forgot Goolsby's routine," Lindsay snaps back authoritatively. "I haven't seen you guys around, so here's a tip for you beginners: here in Vocal Adrenaline, if Coach catches you screwing up, you're out. The thing is—"

The boy rudely interrupts her. "Aylin's been in Vocal Adrenaline for eight months. Longer than you've been here, I hear."

Lindsay wrinkles her nose at him, then continues, "The thing is, Goolsby didn't catch her. I did, but I'm not saying anything. I'm Giselle's understudy, and at least half the club is just _waiting_ for me to screw up so they knock me down and take my spot. So I'm being downright _nice_ to your friend."

"She's right," a sugary voice cuts in. The girl from before—Aylin—pulls on the boy's arm, drawing him away from Lindsay. He resists, standing his ground. "Blake, I really appreciate what you're doing, but Lindsay's right. It's my fault for, uh, sleeping in this morning."

Blake glances at the girl, a bit of concern leaking onto his face. "What?"

Aylin shakes her head imperceptibly, but Lindsay catches it anyways. Aylin's covering something up.

Aylin pulls Blake away again, and this time, he follows. "I won't mess up again, Lindsay," she calls as she leads Blake away.

Lindsay continues to stare after them, even after they exit the auditorium. Eight months, and she never noticed Aylin in the background.

And Damian says that, in New Directions, everybody knows everyone. He says they're like one big happy family of glee.

Glee.

Lindsay scoffs inwardly. Whatever. Show choir is a competition, just like life. There's no glee in the race to the top.

* * *

><p>Sam wasn't quite joking when he said he took an arrow to the knee with video games.<p>

He'd owned a Super Nintendo and a hand-me-down Playstation a couple years ago, but then his father had lost his job again and, desperate for cash, they sold his gaming systems. Since then, Sam's spent most of his time playing with his two younger siblings—which is fun, but he still misses Resident Evil.

So when he gets to Michael's house and sees the two laptops and an elaborate, high-tech desktop computer with an XBox 360 hooked up to the huge monitor, all crammed into Michael's tiny room, his jaw drops.

"Dude, how'd you get all of this?" Sam gapes. He waves a hand in front of the Kinect, and the gaming menu responds. "This is incredible!"

"Life savings," Michael grins. "And parents." He quickly changes the topic by dumping a whole carton of computer games in front of Sam. "So, what do want to get started with first?"

Over the next few hours, they cycle through a couple games. Michael's mom comes home, drops off a couple cookies and milk, and leaves them alone for the rest of the night. Finally they settle down on Rock Band, and Sam's jaw drops again when Michael pulls out the game's accompanying drum set, guitar, bass, and microphone.

"You can actually sing into this?" Sam asks, amazed.

"Yeah," Michael smiles. "I don't usually use this, but I hear your show choir competition's coming up soon."

Sam nods. "Eight days, actually."

Michael snorts. "Then shouldn't you be rehearsing?"

It's Sam's time to snort. "Our choreography isn't that complex and I'm not even singing. Well, I've got background vocals… and actually, Mr. Schue suddenly turned around and offered me a duet instead of automatically handing it to Finn and Rachel."

Michael dons the lead guitar. "So why didn't you take it?"

"Schue offered the other part of the duet to Quinn, and she snapped it up."

"And… aren't you two dating?"

"It's not Facebook official yet," Sam growls. "But she cheated on me. Singing a duet with my adulterous girlfriend is not my idea of a great competition." Sam looks at his feet. "Especially after I gave her that promise ring."

Michael pats Sam on the back. "I'm sorry, man."

Sam looks back at the TV, grinning weakly. "Whatever." He quickly flips through the song selection and chooses a song. "Let's do this."

"How appropriate."

Sam holds the microphone up to his lips and opens the song by cussing forcefully.

_Fuck this hurts, I won't lie, doesn't matter how hard I try,  
>Half the words don't mean a thing and I know that I won't be satisfied<br>So why try ignoring them? Make it a dirt dance floor again.  
>Say your prayers and stomp it out when they bring that chorus in:<em>

_I bleed it out digging deeper just to throw it away,_  
><em>I bleed it out digging deeper just to throw it away,<em>  
><em>I bleed it out digging deeper just to throw it away,<em>  
><em>Just to throw it away, just to throw it away, I bleed it out...<em>

Halfway through the song, though, Michael drops his guitar and yells, "Shit! I'm gonna be late!"

Sam stops rapping, glancing at Michael as he pulls off the fake instrument. The virtual crowd of the game boos.

"I have work at 9," Michael says, motioning at the clock. Sam's shocked to see that it's already 8:45pm.

"Aw man, sorry," Sam apologizes. "Work? Where?"

Michael pauses, and it looks like a million emotions pass through his eyes before he stutters, "Dairy Queen. Late night shift."

"Right. Gosh, I didn't know. I hope you're not late."

Michael nods curtly. "My mom can give you a ride home."

"I biked here, remember?" Sam claps Michael on the back. "It was great hanging out with you, man. See you tomorrow?"

The strangely stressed expression on Michael's face fades away, and he grins softly. "Yeah, man. I had a lot of fun." Spontaneously, he snatches a pen off his desk and scribbles his number on Sam's arm. "See you."

Sam grins and walks out the door. Behind him, Michael shuts the door—and locks it.

Strange.

Sam skips down the steps and out of the house; he'll be back tomorrow.

The New Directions can prep for Sectionals without him, anyways.

* * *

><p>The Lima Bean barista offers Blaine and Kurt a small, genuine grin. "What can I get for you?"<p>

Blaine eyes Kurt briefly before painting on a completely casual face and replying, "A medium drip for me and a grande nonfat mocha for him." He slaps his card on the counter and slides it over to the girl. "I'll pay."

In turn, Kurt looks at Blaine in pleasant surprise. "How'd you know?"

"The same every time," Blaine just grins. "Oh, and could I add triple chocolate cookie…" He eyes the barista's nametag. "…Nellie?"

"Sure thing," Nellie grins, ringing it up.

Five minutes later, both are comfortably settled down on the couches in front of the fireplace. Their Tuesday afternoon coffee dates have almost become an anchor in Blaine's hectic Warbler life; Sectionals are coming up next week, and they've been rehearsing their dance routines day and night.

A little nagging part of Blaine's mind reminds him that Kurt is the competition. In a little over a week, Blaine will be heading to Sectionals against the New Directions. Against Kurt. Yet Blaine can't help but meet up with his newest friend, a friend who had exceptionally difficult experiences with a McKinley High bully who's in the closet.

"How's prep for Sectionals coming along?" Blaine asks, seeking a lighthearted topic.

Kurt smiles dryly. "Are you seriously asking me that? And Wes and David said _I_ was a terrible spy."

"That's not what I meant," he laughs, realizing his mistake. "I didn't ask for your set list. How are you feeling, Kurt?"

Blaine's spent enough time with Kurt to see his expression drop significantly, even as the pale boy keeps a light grin plastered on his face. "Oh, the usual," Kurt says indifferently. "With Rachel nagging us every day for the entire year, nobody really starts freaking out until about a week before. Which is now. That, and Mr. Schue decided to throw in a wrench by passing over Rachel and giving the leads to Quinn and Santana."

Blaine almost chokes on his coffee. "No solos for Rachel Berry?"

Kurt thins his lips. "That's why I shouldn't talk to you about Sectionals," he sighs. "I just gave you info. Now you've got to return the favor."

Blaine raises a single eyebrow, teasing, "What? I asked how you were feeling, Kurt, not why the New Directions has decided to suddenly change their lead singers."

Kurt folds his arms stubbornly, but he still replies, "That's how the New Directions rolls. We don't have a concrete lead."

Blaine leans forward. "So how _are_ you feeling, Kurt?" He catches Kurt's expression again, the hidden emotions behind his happy mask.

Kurt struggles momentarily before finally replying, "Karofsky."

Blaine nods and waits.

"He's… he's making my life a living hell. I don't know what to do." Kurt looks down into his mocha. "I know you told me to stand up and stand proud. Courage. And I have. But every day, every minute, he's there… and I can't… I can't take it anymore." He drops to a scared whisper, barely audible. "He said... that if I told anyone about… about him… he'd kill me."

Blaine knows better than to ask what happened between Kurt and Karofsky. But this is serious. A death threat, even if said in an emotion-heightened rage, is still a death threat. "Go to the authorities," he immediately advises. "Talk to your dad. That guy just threatened to kill you. You're not safe as long as he goes to McKinley High."

Kurt's eyes widen and the blood drains out of his face. "Did you not hear what I just said? He said—"

"And you won't tell them about what Karofsky is," Blaine placates. "You'll just tell your dad that you received a death threat. That's it. Just that."

Kurt still looks panicked. "And why? What would I do? Why should I—"

Blaine grabs both of his hands with his own and stills Kurt's frantic movements. He waits until Kurt's eyes rest upon his and tries to send comfort and courage and determination through their eye contact. "Courage, Kurt," he says softly. "Either Karofsky is suspended from McKinley, giving you safety at your own school, in your own neighborhood with your friends and family. Or I'll personally see to it that you are given refuge at Dalton Academy."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Anybody notice that the New Directions never starts prepping for a performance until the week of? Either all the prep work goes down off camera, or they truly are extremely talented and can choreograph an entire three songs in a couple days. #canoncomplaint_

_Thanks for the reviews! Whew time for some talking...  
><em>_**TheGleeksFromDeathlyHallows**__ – There we go. Bryce/Emily/Marissa, inspired by the Firework video!  
>I'm pretty excited for Abraham, Michael, and Nellie too—love them, so they'll be getting time. On the other hand, I don't know about Maxfield… suggestions? HEY if you re-watch the moment where they're playing rock-paper-scissors for assignment lines, <em>**Max does paper to Lily Mae's scissors OH THE SYMBOLISM**_**.**__ Check out thegleekproject(dot)blogspot(dot)com for some __hilarious__ (bitchy) comments and observations! With physical appearances, I got butch lesbian Finn vibes off Charlie bahaha. But in his interviews, he definitely has his own personality. I'm going to have to make some space for him…  
>And about Hannah's newest love polygon, know that it involves TGP2 characters—yes, I'm trying to mix it up! I failed at getting Glee and TGP1 characters together, but I can try blending TGP1&amp;2.<br>As for Boy Hobbit, production tries to level Darren Criss out but sometimes you'll spot that he's several inches shorter Chris Colfer.  
><em>_**CartoonistGirl6  
>perfectlyODD<strong>__ – you're hitting pretty close to the mark :)  
><em>_**cowboy-mcginty **__– There's going to be quite of bit of shuffling going down in VA :) Man, have you seen the Danceability (I'm pretty sure that's not a word) music video? Ow ow Michael action! (Blake got quite a bit of action too.) Though I think it would have fit better in the Sexuality episode. Especially with the final scene and all those fake smoldering looks (bleah). At least this time they weren't wearing hammer pants haha.  
><em>_**xxBlaineXKurtxx**__ – SUNSHINE YESH. I have great plans for her in VA *evil laughter*__**  
>AbsurdAnimals<strong>__ – Well you're the first Camrissa supporter I've heard from! Anybody else?__**  
>LovelyChaster<strong>__ – Actually, I'm writing Sunshine into VA __in order that__ she'll have more screen time :)_


	42. Deviate I

_A/N:__ 1000 reviews and** DOUBLE POST HAPPINESS. **Thank you all for sticking with me through this story!_

**Featured Songs:**  
>"One Moment In Time" by Whitney Houston, cover by Charice<p>

* * *

><p>"I'm transferring to Carmel High and will spy on Vocal Adrenaline by joining their ranks."<p>

A beat of complete, shocked silence.

Followed by a simultaneous exclamation of "WHAT?" from the entirety of New Directions, save for Tina.

Rachel immediately launches herself out of her chair and steps forward furiously. "You can't seriously believe that Vocal Adrenaline wants you for your talent, can you? No! It's impossible! They're trying to cut us down, trying to break up our ranks by chipping away at our foundation—"

"And that's what I'll do, come Regionals," Sunshine retorts. "It'll just be like last year with Jesse St. James, except a complete reversal. I'll integrate myself into Vocal Adrenaline and pull out at the last second, leaving them floundering."

"If it happened last year, won't they just suspect we're trying to get back at them?" Finn refutes.

"It's Sunny!" Tina objects. "She's so sweet and innocent, they'd never suspect her."

Mike jerks in surprise when his girlfriend defends what he believes is a bad idea and then elbows him in the side to back her up. Composing himself quickly, he adds, "Besides, uh, the deception is so obvious that they'll never suspect it. It's like hiding right under their noses."

"Sunshine," Matheus protests weakly. "You can't…" His voice piddles away as Sunshine nails him with a _you're-my-friend-so-support-me_ glare.

Sunshine steps forward in emphasis. "Listen: I'll make them so dependent on me that they'll rely on me completely. Then, right before Regionals, I'll yank the carpet from underneath them. It worked with the New Directions last year, didn't it?" At the club's furious expressions, Sunshine decides to skip that point. "It'll be the same for me: I go in, wow them completely, and leave them hanging before Regionals."

Skeptical looks pass between the members of New Directions. Santana breaks the silence by demanding, "Who says you've got a bam-wham voice anyways?"

At Sunshine's cue, Tina slides behind the piano. Sunshine fixes her eyes on Rachel, saying, "I know there's a lot of star power in this club and that you all want to shine. But sometimes you've got to step back and give others a chance to show you what they've got before you shove them off in the background." She promptly launches into song.

_I've lived to be the very best; I want it all, no time for less.  
>I've laid the plans, now lay the chance here in my hands.<em>

_Give me one moment in time, when I'm more than I thought I could be!_  
><em>When all of my dreams are a heartbeat away and the answers are all up to me.<em>  
><em>Give me one moment in time, when I'm racing with destiny.<em>  
><em>Then in that one moment of time, I will feel… I will feel eternity!<em>

Sunshine's last note drowns out the applause of the New Directions for a couple seconds.

"Okay girl, I'm going to admit it," Mercedes whoops. "You've got power in your tiny body. You have the potential to be a star."

Rachel gasps in astonished offence.

Mercedes continues, "But, like Rachel said, isn't that what Vocal Adrenaline wants? They're trying to tear us apart by taking out key members and shoving it in our faces. Marissa's already left because of their lead, and—"

As Marissa's past pseudo-boyfriend, Damian feels obligated to defend her. "Marissa left because nobody ever paid attention to her."

Tina's other elbow digs into his side; Damian realizes a bit too late that he's just added to the fuel.

"So that's it!" Rachel seizes on the opportunity. "You're deserting us simply because you feel underappreciated! Sunshine, and trust me, I know absolutely how you feel." She quickly approaches Sunshine, maintaining eye contact the entire way and pouring emotion into her voice. "During the initial stages of the New Directions, Mr. Schuester failed to see my shining talent and hunger and thirst to display it. I was so desperate that I couldn't bear to sing in the background to Artie's ironic rendition of _Sit Down, You're Rocking the Boat_, and subsequently quit the club." She grasps Sunshine's hands, and the little girl is too kind to wrench her wrists free stubbornly. "It wasn't until Mr. Schuester told me how important every single member is in the club, and how important it is that they support each other through everything, that I finally came back to the Glee club."

Sunshine stares flatly into Rachel's eyes.

Undaunted, Rachel finishes up her speech. "Sunshine, you are a key member of the New Directions. Please don't leave for Carmel High; we need you. I need you."

Sunshine finally drops her sweet and innocent façade, growling, "You need me to stand in the background and stare at you with moved, teary eyes as you shine brilliantly on center stage and showcase your amazing talent during solos!" Her voice has risen to a derogative, shrill imitation, complete with her arms waving in mock drama.

Hannah's jaw drops. Rachel had said those exact words to Sunshine nine weeks ago, on the first day of school.

Sunshine continues in the same shrill imitation, "Swaying In Background Can Be Rewarding!" She flashes Rachel a brilliant smile before dropping it like a load of crap. "Yeah, I'm not buying it." She steps closer to Rachel, and Rachel, lost for words, takes a step back. "My first week in America, you sent me to a crack house." Another step forward; another step back. "The next week, I auditioned for _your_ Glee club anyways. I got in, made amazing friends, and went straight to swaying in the background." Another step forward; another step back. "I never had another opportunity up until three days ago, when Vocal Adrenaline showed up and we background dancers pushed them back. And do we even get a thank you? A standing ovation? Anything?" Another step forward and another step back. Rachel looks like she's on the verge of tears. Sunshine plows through anyways. "Now I'm going to take my one moment in time, knock Vocal Adrenaline off its feet, and make sure that it doesn't get back up in time for Regionals before coming back to the New Directions. And I'm going to do it, not for you and your amazing talent, but for my friends!"

The final step back, and Rachel trips and falls into an empty seat.

Sunshine looks up at the rest of the club; they're all looking at her with varying degrees of shock and disapproval. This is what Tina had hoped to avoid when she presented her plan, and Sunshine's just ruined it. The entirety of New Directions probably believes that she really will betray them by joining Vocal Adrenaline forever; after all, she just bullied their star singer into silence.

Sunshine can't really bring herself to care. Maybe she _will_ just stay at Carmel High.

But Hannah, Damian, Tina, Mike, and Matheus… will still be her friends, even if she does transfer schools. Even if she shines spectacularly.

…even if she leads Vocal Adrenaline to Nationals?

No, that's not part of the plan.

She turns to her friends. "See you guys later," she says shortly. "I'll be off at Vocal Adrenaline pulling a Jesse St. James. No need to thank me."

She walks out of the choir room, down the hallways, and out the doors into the afternoon sunlight.

Nobody follows her.

* * *

><p>Marissa checks her makeup in the mirror one last time. Her nerves are on fire and she feels jittery panicky. Her first date. Well, she'd gone on a couple dates with Cameron, but nothing like Friday night dinner at the Olive Garden by the river—more like trips to McDonalds and coffee dates at the Lima Bean.<p>

This date with Bryce feels like a first. Her first high school date (apart from the burger stop before the Halloween nightclub). Her first _real_ date. A date with a great guy she met randomly in the mall.

The guy with the same name as the guy who broke Emily's heart.

Though they can't be the same person, right? That would be too much of a coincidence. Besides, Emily says she attends St. Mary's, a girls-only Catholic school located in Westerville. And Bryce lives in Carmel. The cities are miles apart.

Marissa sighs. No, the Bryce she's spent hours talking to and the heartbreaker Bryce Emily dated long ago can't be the same person.

A car horn blares outside. Marissa looks at the window and spots Bryce's bulky black Range Rover. She snatches up her phone and purse, noticing that she has two missed calls.

She frantically pounds down the stairs while calling Bryce and shouting a goodbye to her father. He yells something back at her, but she slams the front door shut before she can hear the rest of his sentence.

Bryce grins as she jumps into the front seat, panicking and blurting, "I'm so sorry, my phone was on silent and I missed your calls and I was just thinking and—"

Bryce holds up his phone; neither of them has disconnected the call. "And yelling random goodbyes to your father?"

Marissa slumps into her passenger seat. "You heard that?"

"_Tootles, Papa Bear!_" Bryce imitates._ "Anddon'tworryI'mcominghometonight!_"

Marissa buries her face in her hands. "Just start driving and pretend you never heard any of that."

"What are you talking about?" Bryce says immediately as he pulls out of the driveway and heads straight for Carmel.

* * *

><p>Lindsay jumps in surprise when a car horn blares outside her house. Coach Goolsby gave them a rare Friday night practice break with the warning that it'd be the last break in a while. After all, Sectionals are in two weeks.<p>

So Lindsay had planned to use her break to SLEEP. God knows she needs some beauty rest. She hasn't had more than six hours of sleep for the past three weeks.

Lindsay burrows deeper underneath her comforter, snuggling with her pillow pets and stuffed animals—

The car beeps again; at the same time, her cell phone begins to vibrate noisily on her bedside table.

Seriously? It's almost as if the universe is actively trying to prevent her from taking full advantage of her break! In a sleep-deprived rage, Lindsay grabs her phone and almost tosses it across the room when she spots the caller ID.

Damian.

Oh damn. Now she's torn between beauty sleep and sorta-boyfriend. Lindsay still hasn't figured out how to balance both. She only kissed him three days ago, after all. She hasn't had a lot of time to think about this. She hasn't even explained it to McKynleigh yet (mostly because she really doesn't know herself).

The phone stops buzzing, and Lindsay sighs in relief. _Thank you universe; I'll just go back to—_

The phone immediately vibrates again.

_Alright, boyfriend. You win._

"Hello?" she says as groggily as possible. Let him interpret that, hopefully understand that she needs to snooze, and leave her alone for at least nine hours.

"Hello, Lindsay! I'm outside!" The car beeps again.

…shoot.

"Damian?" she mumbles again, this time dragging her voice out in a whine. "I'm trying to sleep."

"And I'm trying to take you out on our first date!" he says brightly.

"But… but…" In her preparation to sink into a sleep coma, Lindsay's lost her usual bite. Still, thanks to her rude awakening, she's mustered up enough clarity to realize… "Damian, you don't have a car. How'd you get here? And how do you have access to a car horn?"

Damian sounds sheepish. "Uh, you left your car window open."

"Oh. Roll it up for me, would you?"

"Sure." A pause as Damian dutifully performs the task. "Anyways, back to our first date…?"

Lindsay immediately slumps back into her pillow pets. "But Damian… I need to sleep!"

"You can sleep when you're dead," Damian cites cheerfully, before his voice drops into a completely serious tone. "Besides, I need you." The doorbell echoes throughout the house, and his voice bounces right back up to chirpy. "I'll be waiting downstairs…"

"No! Damian! I'm already in bed and I don't want to get out! Leave me alone and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Samuel tells me Vocal Adrenaline has practice all weekend. As in, all hours of the day. New Directions' Sectionals is next week and you guys have Sectionals in two weeks. Which means that we need to do this date now, before all the crap hits the fan."

She has to admit, he's thought this through. She never even considered it. And yes, Vocal Adrenaline has a 6am to 10pm practice scheduled for tomorrow, as well as a 1pm to 11pm practice for Sunday, though how Samuel found that out, Lindsay doesn't know. Unless Damian asked Samuel to ask McKynleigh… but McKynleigh's not even on board with the whole dating-the-enemy-before-Sectionals thing.

Ugh. Too. Complicated.

"Hello, Shannon," Damian greets warmly. "Is Lindsay in?"

"Well don't you look skipper," Lindsay's mom compliments. "Lindsay should be hanging out in her room. Why don't you go check up on her?"

"NO," Lindsay screeches into her phone so loud, she can hear her own tinny voice blasting from Damian's phone through two walls.

An awkward pause. "Actually, why don't I go see what she's up to," Shannon amends. "Come in, Damian."

Lindsay tumbles out of bed, dragging a pillow panda and a rainbow unicorn with her. She attempts to look proper in her oversized T shirt and running shorts as her mother knocks on the door, then peeks in. "Tell Damian I'll be down there in fifteen minutes," she says as authoritatively as possible.

"…Are you sure, honey?"

"Never mind, make that thirty." She darts to her closet and grabs the first dress she sees. "What's he wearing?"

Shannon smiles. "Casual dress clothes. Green button up shirt and khaki slacks. Dark green tie and dress shoes."

Lindsay starts tossing green dresses on her bed.

Exactly twenty-eight minutes later, Lindsay steps lightly into the living room in a shimmering emerald dress with a darker green ribbon tied around her waist. She didn't really do her hair and barely applied any makeup, but from the way Damian looks at her with his brilliant blue eyes, she knows that all he sees is her. Lindsay, for who she truly is, and not what she looks like outside.

He steps a bit closer to her and stretches a hand towards her face and she hopes he isn't going to try to pull her close and kiss her _in front of her mom_. But he doesn't. He just lifts one of her golden chandelier earrings gently and murmurs, "You wore these at the carnival."

Lindsay gives him a strange look and feels her own earrings self-consciously. Really, she'd just thrown them on because of their color. Gold and green are Irish colors, right? "What carnival?"

"The one when I first realized I was in love with you," Damian says softly.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lindsay notices her mom slip out of the living room silently. She's in the clear now. She looks up into his eyes, leans forward...

* * *

><p>…She doesn't kiss him.<p>

Dinner had finished long ago and Marissa and Bryce had simply been talking for the past hour, leaning closer and closer together…

She pulls away slightly, and he does the same. He responds incredibly well and Marissa finds it hard to believe that he'd been giving her the look only seconds ago. Or had she been giving the look? Had she been the one to slowly, gradually close the distance between them, and Bryce had only responded?

The point is, she's not ready yet. She's not quite ready for that step yet. Holding hands, eating dinner, opening herself up to him—she can do that.

And he's not pressuring her. He's perfectly patient.

She's saved from her inward struggle of awkwardness when the same waiter passes their table for the fourth time. "I think they're trying to kick us out," she mock-whispers to Bryce.

"Should we ignore them?" Bryce mock-whispers back.

"No, let's go for a walk. On the river," she grins, and together, they walk out of Olive Garden into the darkness of the adjacent riverside park. She underestimated how chilly it would be outside, however; it is mid-autumn, after all, and warm summer nights have long since left Ohio. Marissa barely has time to shiver before Bryce drapes his warm leather coat over her thin jacket.

"Won't you be cold?" she objects, eying his thin dress shirt.

"Nope," he says jauntily. "Abnormally high body temperature. Comes with working your ass off every day during dance rehearsals."

Marissa leans into him as they stroll down to the river. Warmth radiates both from his body and the lingering heat within his jacket. "When are your Sectionals?"

He wraps an arm around her smoothly. "Two weeks. I hear New Directions has their Sectionals in a couple days."

"I'm not in Glee club anymore," Marissa says, a bit stiffly. If he's trying to break New Directions apart like Jesse St. James did last year, he's fishing down the wrong hole.

"I'm sorry, I just assumed you still had friends in the Glee club."

"Yes, and they're rehearsing quite a bit," Marissa says vaguely.

* * *

><p>"Don't you have your Sectionals in a couple days?" Lindsay asks as she drives Damian downtown. Sure, it isn't as romantic, but Damian doesn't have an American driver's license. "Shouldn't you be rehearsing?"<p>

Damian doesn't reply for a while. "Wellllll," he finally replies slowly, a small grin flitting its way onto his face as he smiles at her.

"Damian!" Lindsay reproaches. "Skipping out on practice?"

"Well, what about you?" Damian teases. "I expected you'd be practicing at school, but Samuel redirected me to your house. He said Miki dropped you off there earlier."

"Actually, we got a break today," Lindsay admits. "I was going to use it to catch up on beauty sleep, but then you _fortunately_ happened to come along…"

Damian's hand finds her. "Very fortunately," he grins. "It's like we were destined to go out on a date today."

Lindsay rolls her eyes. "Destiny told you to skip practice."

"New Directions won't miss me. The leads can spend all weekend learning choreography; I'll pick up my background swaying any time I want," Damian scoffs.

* * *

><p><strong>Sure enough…<strong>

Sam's finally caught up on enough Halo that he can last about a minute against Michael on the battlefield.

Hannah helps Sunshine pack up her suitcase, trying to find some light in what she considers a dark situation.

Puck's picked up two freshman girls and he doesn't care.

Matheus wonders if he should pick up the phone and tell Sunshine how he really feels. He'd always figured she felt the same—they knew each other so well—but she's leaving McKinley High all of a sudden and he doesn't know what to think.

Kurt confides in Blaine over the phone.

Mercedes fumes that Quinn got the Sectionals duet with Damian over her, and that Santana gets her own freakin' solo.

Rachel's furious that so many people decided to skip out on the Friday night Sectionals booty camp, and that Finn is still pretending to be with Quinn. She's put her entire life into this club and everybody treats it—and by extension, her—like trash. Nobody appreciates her and what she's done for the New Directions.

* * *

><p>Damian and Lindsay are walking along the riverside road on their way to Olive Garden when they encounter a very familiar couple headed in the opposite direction.<p>

"Damian?" Marissa exclaims.

"Marissa!" Damian responds, looking dubiously at the huge leather jacket on Marissa's relatively small frame, then at Bryce.

Bryce, however, has his eyes fixed on… "Lindsay," he notes casually. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Lindsay?" Marissa gasps. "It _is _you! I haven't seen you since theater camp!"

"Marissa," Lindsay mutters. It hasn't been that long since she saw Marissa and Damian together. Regardless of Damian's supposedly fake relationship with the pretty girl, Lindsay still slightly resents the redhead. "Um, Bryce…" She clutches Damian's arm a bit tighter. "This is my boyfriend, Damian."

Marissa looks surprised but recovers quickly. Damian and Bryce shake hands firmly. "Bryce," Bryce introduces. "And I'm guessing you all know each other," he grins. "Small world, isn't it?"

"Small indeed," Lindsay replies tersely, drawing even closer to Damian. Marissa notices but doesn't say anything.

Damian gets the hint. "Well, we were just headed on our way to dinner," he smiles. "Pardon my stomach. I'll see you around, Bryce. See you later, Marissa."

Bryce eyes Lindsay one last time and, for a split second, she remembers her quick, nine-day relationship with him. Then she brutally flushes the thought from her memory and huddles closer to Damian as the two couples part from each other.

She thought she'd found a truly caring guy in Bryce, but her recent breakup with Derik had altered her judgment. Damian's different, she assures herself. Damian is _NOT_ Derik, and he is not Bryce.

…She's sure of it.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_**GleekFromDeathlyHallows**: __how's that for a not-short chapter?_

_But seriously, guys: __**days to write, minutes to read, seconds to review.**__ (Or a lot of minutes for especially long reviews, I do love those. Shout-outs to __**GleekFromDeathlyHallows, **__**cowboy-mcginty, Mary in the Stars, **__and __**Fiat Noctum!**__ You guys are incredible.)_

_I think I'm going to stick with smaller chapters and quicker updates. Chapter word count averages at 2500 words, ranging anywhere from 1500 to 3500. This chapter is 4500.__ (So... review? Since, you know, this is the longest chapter of this entire story, ever.)_

__Thank you for your support! Ranting time!  
><em>_

__**MagnificKCBEE** - Charlie will definitely be making an appearance. I love the guy, he's such a goof. Have you seen his Youtube videos? And WHOA 4am? That's like how late I stay up when I'm on a writing rampage. Or when I've procrastinated too long and need to finish an essay for the next day. Haha... bleah.  
><em>_

__**CartoonistGirl6** - I wasn't planning on putting Dani until way later, but I've upped her participation in more recent plots for you :)  
><em>_

__**cowboy-mcginty** - __Oh yes, the Party Rock Anthem video. Well at least we know why it was more of a kissing orgy than Dance-ability; the dancing part wasn't good enough to make it on camera :/___**  
><strong>_

__**SPEEEEEEAK** - Yes, the appearance of TGP2 has got me in a writing frenzy! It's different from when I first started out with TGP1 characters; they just magically appeared. With TGP2 people, they're going to infiltrate the current universe slowly, and, after they've made a couple appearances, only then will I narrate from their POV. Guess which TGP2 character narrates first?  
><em>_

__**TealCrystalCAT** - Well it's never too late to start reviewing, thank you! Heh actually the addition of TGP2 characters just__ adds _drama to all the Glee/TGP1 characters ;)_

_**TheGleekFromDeathlyHallows**_ - WHEW long review. I love you. And I feel like Sam Donovan's going treat Lily Mae as the next Lindsay. So don't hate her! I feel really sad every time I see people tearing either of them down.  
>Take this chapter for the longest chapter ever written in this story, ever. Ha! ...Yeah, but like I said, I think I'll stick to short and quick.<br>I've got inspiration for Maxfield, thanks to you and Cola-Flavoured-Sherbet! Religion and all. I admired how Oxygen kept his little blurb in the end about trusting God with the final decision; whether Ryan said yes or no, he'd accept it as God's plan for him. That's powerful stuff and I admire Maxfield a lot for believing so strongly in it that he wasn't afraid to tell it on national television.  
><em>_

__**littlehoneypot** - haha thanks for dropping little reviewers here and there! Networking is just going to get a little more insane!  
><em>_

__**Cola-Flavoured-Sherbet **- Double post indeed! REVIEW BOTH PWEASE. And thanks for your inspiration concerning Maxfield and McKynleigh! I'll say right up front that it isn't anything close to what you suggested, but know that you inspired my idea!  
><em>_

__**Big Spender** - I heard the Michellie ship screaming too. Oh yes. Uh, but no spoilers. And thanks! Just the sheer amount of hits and visitors and reviews have been phenomenal and pushed me through writer's block, even the memory-jarring accident I had earlier this year. Thanks for your feedback! And I was just thinking, wow, this has gone on for a long time with no apparent end... so I'm thinking I'll just do one school year and call it good. Except I'm only at Sectionals so far :S  
><em>_

__**xxBlaineXKurtxx** - Happy belated birthday!  
><em>_

__**I Am Number 6** - I'm going to refrain from spoilers__ ;)

**_Michelle_**_ and **Audrey Kelly** - Hm. Yes, possible. We'll see._

_**AshtrayTragedyM.D **- Asians FTW! People tell me I look 16 all the time X(  
><em>


	43. Deviate II

__A/N: This is the second chapter of the double-post reward for exceeding 1000 reviews! DOUBLE POST HAPPINESS AGAIN. So t_his chapter probably won't make a lot of sense if you don't read the previous one, so go back and read it. AND REVIEW IT. Please? And then come back here.___

_First Season 2 POV from my favorite TGP2 person!_

_A/N (2): Waugh! Thanks to those who notified me that I posted ch 42 twice! Sorry, I guess that sort of defeats the purpose of a double-post... _

* * *

><p>Matheus is stunned.<p>

"What do you mean, she's not coming back?" he snaps, splashing a bit of Lima Bean coffee on Hannah's shirt. "She told us last Friday that she's going to pull out right before Regionals!"

"And she is," Tina says soothingly. "But her mom was offered a nice job at Carmel High, and they've got green cards now. She'll pull out but remain enrolled at Carmel because her family is better off there." Tina shakes her head sadly. "They became American citizens yesterday. It might not be legitimate, but it works for now."

Matheus' face flushes red. "How can you back her up, Tina? Vocal Adrenaline's doing this on purpose! They're trying to sabotage the Rachel-and-Finn show by pulling us out—"

"Quinn's singing," Hannah cuts in, trying to rub the coffee stain off her yellow shirt. "And so is our very own Damian! Rachel's going to be in the background for the entirety of Sectionals with us for once."

Matheus thinks for a moment before coming up with a new argument. "You know what? Sunshine won't be able to pull out before Regionals. Vocal Adrenaline's dangling some really expensive bait in front of her. If she does anything to cross them, Dustin Goolsby will just threaten to revoke the green card or kick them out of the condo. If Carmel High got the bait through illegitimate methods, then they can just as well take it away illegitimately!"

Hannah looks horrified, as if she's just realized this. Tina doesn't say anything, staring at the tabletop in shock.

Matheus mentally pumps his fist in victory.

Then Tina just stares at him dully and says, "So what do we do?"

"Tell her," Matheus says right away. "Tell her that she—"

"She already accepted the bait," Tina interrupts flatly. "It's too late."

"She can still refuse!" Matheus shoots back. "It's _not_ too late. It'll be a bit harder, but she can say no and come back—"

"And tell her mother that she has to keep babysitting three bratty kids instead of sitting at a quiet desk doing administrative duties? Tell her sister that she can't have her own room in a nice big condo? Tell her family that they can't be American—"

Matheus slams his hands into the table. "Why are you arguing against me? Do you _hate _Sunny so much that you want her gone forever?"

Tina slams her hands into the table too, fury bubbling up around her. Hannah jumps back at the surprising display of emotion. "Sunny called me Thursday night, it's how I have all this insider's knowledge. _She_ made the decision for her family, not herself, and I'm supporting her decision as her _friend_." She backs off suddenly, aware that all eyes in the Lima Bean are on their table. "Matheus," she says softly, "I love Sunny too, and I wish she could be here with us. But ask yourself: why do you want Sunshine here?"

"I want what's best for her," Matheus snarls. "Kept on a Vocal Adrenaline leash and not being able to escape is not the life she wants, even if she thinks it will give her more stage time."

Tina doesn't say anything. She just stares at the tabletop silently.

"Matheus," Hannah begins, but Matheus stands up quickly.

"I'm going to call her," he says with an air of finality, bolting towards the door—

—And barreling straight into a barista carrying a tray of drinks. Coffee-flavored slushies slosh all over Matheus and the dark-haired girl. She gasps but somehow manages to hold her tongue, even as ice drips down her shirt.

"I'm sorry," Matheus says shortly, his mind on other things. He leaves quickly.

"Oh my gosh," Hannah gasps, glancing between Tina and the barista. Tina makes a quick decision and gets up to help the girl.

"Are you alright?" Tina asks, approaching the barista slowly. "I'm so sorry about my friend. Uh, I'll pay for the drinks…"

The Lima Bean manager emerges from the stock room. One look at the soaked girl with coffee dripping out of her ponytail, and he says, "Take the day off, Nellie."

Nellie shivers, nods, and staggers into the back room.

"Um, sir," Tina says weakly. "My friend…"

The manager waves her off. "Don't worry about it," he assures her. "Accidents happen all the time."

Hannah grabs Tina's arm and quickly pulls her away. "If you can save money, you take it," Hannah mock-hisses. "And I thought you were Asian."

"Did you see the look on the barista's face?" Tina whispers back, guilt from her indirectly causing Matheus to crash into the girl still hanging around. "The poor girl!"

"I'd feel the same way, if I had ice cold slushie dripping down my front," Hannah answers. "Oh wait…"

Tina's mood lifts considerably; they have personal experience with slushies. She can't hold back her giggles. "Oh Hannah," she sniggers. "I can always count on you to brighten up my day."

Hannah grins and gives Tina a side-hug as they toss their empty cups into the trash and leave, searching for Matheus.

* * *

><p>About fifteen minutes later, Nellie teeters out of the Lima Bean. Three ice-cold frozen Frappuccinos to the face was not her idea of a great work day, but at least her manager acknowledged that she couldn't work another three hours covered in dried, sticky coffee.<p>

A whole Monday afternoon, completely free. What to do?

Nellie slides into her car. Ugh. Even with half a canister of Wet Wipes, she couldn't get all the coffee. There are still some sticky spots in the most awkward places, especially noticeable now that she's sitting down. She can feel every strand of her thick black hair sticking to the back of her neck, even though she's retied it in an extra high ponytail.

Shower, now. Then call Boyfriend as soon as possible to complain.

Sounds like a plan.

Nellie practically speeds home. Her mom will probably be there in an hour, which means that she has a very short period of time to clean up and quickly arrange another activity before the ever-present threat of a substitute teacher for a mother arrives and forces her into more homework.

While the shower water warms, Nellie throws her sticky clothes into a separate bag. She rinses off quickly, making sure that every last droplet is wrung from her long hair, then jumps out, pulls on random clothes and leaps out the door and into her car before 5pm.

Charlie doesn't pick up when she calls him. She's disappointed but not surprised; Charlie's been like this lately. Not picking up. Too busy with homework, or playing soccer with his friends, or ancient cell phone ran out of battery. Excuses, excuses, but she's got them too. They've been dating for three years and they pretty much know each other inside out.

It feels like they've been together forever, and though he gets on her nerves sometimes (and vice versa), Nellie can't really imagine life without him.

After the fifth unanswered call, Nellie gives up and texts him; spontaneously, she also adds her best friend to the send list. She steers with her knee and makes sure to look out the windshield more often than she looks at her phone.

_Worst day at work ever,_ she types quickly, pulling onto the road out of Lima towards Carmel.

True to her speculation, her best friend replies within a couple minutes (even though he should be in practice). _Damn! What's up?_

_A little guy ran into me while I was carrying frozen drinks. Three slushies to the face X(_

_Ouch! You better have gotten out of work, girl._

_Yeah I'm out. Can't work with sugar and cream down my shirt._

_BOOBS, bitch. Just say it. You know you want to! Besides, there already are innuendos all over that statement._

Nellie bursts out laughing, but she flushes red at the same time; she doesn't really want to think about what he might be implying. _ Ugh, Abraham, forget I said that. So my afternoon's free, can I come hang out?_

_Sure! We're practicing flips. As long as you hide up in the balcony and stay out of sight. Dakota Stanley pretty suspicious about spies, with Sectionals coming up next week._

_I won't take pictures,_ Nellie promises, glancing at her camera case in the back seat.

Or maybe she'll just turn off the flash.

* * *

><p>When Kurt turns around to hand a stack of French assignments to the girls sitting at the table behind him, he catches Dave Karofsky staring at him.<p>

Kurt drops the worksheets in front of Marissa like a bunch of hot potatoes and quickly faces the front of the classroom again. But now that he's seen Karofsky, Kurt can literally feel the closeted bully's eyes burning holes in the back of his neck. He almost wants to turn around and shoot back a glare so hard it'll make the guy look away, but he can't bring himself to do it.

He's scared.

So he just sits like a stone statue, not daring to look back even when Marissa taps him on the shoulder to hand him the extra papers.

As soon as class is over, Kurt quickly shoves his book and papers in his messenger bag in a hurry to get out of the room. Too late; it's almost as if Karofsky had been waiting the entire class period just to jump in front of him and "accidentally" swipe his pencil case onto the floor. Pens and erasers and spare change clatter underneath students' feet as the class moves towards the door like a slow herd of cattle, unaware of the bits of plastic crunching underneath their shoes.

Kurt mentally steels himself, holding back exasperated tears. It's not that bad; just a pencil case. Just a couple cheap pens and random stuff. Just another act of bullying, in addition to the spilled milk on his lunch tray an hour ago. And before that, a slushie. And before that, slamming Kurt's locker closed while he was still pulling books from it. And before that, taunting him by winking in his direction. And before that, flicking paper clips at the back of his neck.

All these little actions that used to be fine on their own… but now that they're all compressed into one day, every day of the week, Kurt can't stand it.

He just can't.

And Karofsky said that if he told _anybody_ about the kiss, he'd kill him.

Kurt doesn't feel safe. He can't walk down the halls of McKinley without fear of Dave jumping out of the shadows to harass him, then jokingly taunt him afterwards while that death threat continues to hang in the air.

He loves his friends—Finn's become pretty nice since Burt kicked him and Carole out of the house last year after Finn made some hateful remarks; and Mercedes is his chatter buddy, always available to talk to him. Hannah's a sweet girl and knows how to cheer people up. But none of them truly know Kurt's nature, and because of that, they don't know just how deep Kurt's fear of Dave Karofsky reaches.

Only one person has been through what Kurt's going through right now. Only one person knows exactly how Kurt feels and what he should do.

Blaine.

Kurt jerks out of his mental reverie as a soft hand touches his shoulder. He jumps, alarmed—but it's just Marissa. She's handing his pencil case back to him, with all his stuff shoved back into it.

"Thanks," Kurt rasps, wiping away tears that have appeared out of nowhere.

She doesn't ask anything stupid like "_Are you okay?"_; she just pats him gently on the back and leaves the classroom.

Marissa—she's a nice girl too. In the popular group, but without the snotty personality. But even she doesn't have the power to hold Karofsky back. Nobody does. He could try to get Principal Figgins to suspend Karosky, but there's always a possibility that he could come back.

Just because he transfers schools, it doesn't mean his friends will stop loving him. So what if he's switching to the New Directions' competition five days before Sectionals? Sunshine's doing the exact same thing with Vocal Adrenaline. And her friends—Tina, Mike, Damian, Hannah—they'd all supported her when she told the New Directions last Friday that she was leaving. If Mercedes and Finn are her true friends, they'll support him too.

Especially if he's fleeing for his life.

He skips the rest of his classes and drives straight to his father's garage. He breaks down and confesses his past month of hell. He contacts Blaine, who collaborates with Burt and the school administration.

By Glee practice of the same day, Kurt tells everybody that he's transferring to Dalton Academy.

* * *

><p>Giselle is stunned.<p>

"Coach Goolsby, you can't be serious!" she yells, stomping straight up to the tiny Asian girl and towering over her. "Sectionals are next week! There's no way she'll be able to learn the choreography in—"

"And she won't be singing lead at Sectionals," Coach Goolsby interrupts. "That's all up to you and Bryce." He eyes the far corner of the stage. "And, of course, Lindsay and Abraham, it's your job to back them up."

"Then why is she taking _my_ position in the front?" Giselle growls.

"She's our secret weapon for Regionals," Coach replies calmly, casually slipping an arm around the tiny girl's shoulder. "Nobody will expect her powerhouse of a voice from such a tiny body."

"The New Directions will," one of the dancers pipes up, a chocolate-skinned girl with a cropped pixie cut. Giselle doesn't really care about the people in the background, but the name McKynleigh comes to mind—so ironic that she shares a name with their competing high school. McKynleigh elaborates, "She's the girl who beat us out a couple days ago during our invasion. McKinley High knows just how great she is."

"Regions have shifted since last year with the increase of show choir clubs," Coach Goolsby informs the team. "We will no longer face the New Directions at Regionals; they've been shuffled down to competition with a naughty girls' reform school, the not-at-all stupidly named Aural Intensity from Indiana, a preppy boys' school acapella choir, a couple deaf kids from Haverbrook, and a singing group straight out of a retirement home. We'll never compete against the New Directions unless they somehow manage to squeeze their way to New York. In the meanwhile, nobody else knows about our Secret Weapon."

With a final, gruff side-hug, Coach releases the tiny girl and pushes her towards show choir group, just as Dakota Stanley marches into the limelight and barks, "Alright, you spineless wimps! I want to see those cartwheel flyers perfecting their form by the end of today! Bases, start with some lifts and proper drops—and I'd better see you in the weight room after practice. And you, Tiny Speck!"

The short Asian girl jumps and glances around in confusion before her eyes land on the choreographer only a couple inches taller than she is. She looks like such a pushover; Giselle knows right away that she'll have no problem putting the girl in her place after practice. "W-w-what? Me?"

"As if that nickname wasn't specific enough," the little man grumbles. "Asian Speck! I don't care if you're hiding a trumpet with the power of a hundred constipated elephants in that tiny, tiny body of yours, I want you standing and belting on two-man base in an hour and flying in two."

"Belting? Sing what?"

"Whatever the hell you can pull out of that tiny head. Just make sure you can still perform while suspended six feet off the floor."

Sunshine bites her lips nervously. Giselle's expression slips into a smug grin as three male bases prepare to hoist her into the air.

No problem. With Stanley's abusive treatment, instant alienation from the larger group, and Giselle's intervention, Sunshine won't last more than three practices.

Giselle _will_ get that spotlight focused on herself once again.

* * *

><p><em><span>References<span>_

_A couple nicknames for Sunshine were siphoned off __**Mary in the Stars**__' story "Nicknames." Great story for Sunshine's behind-the-scenes during Season 2 canon._

_Author's Rant_

_Waugh I love you guys so much! 1000+ reviews is simply incredible and pretty much mind-blowing. Hence the super length and ranting of the last chapter, plus the DOUBLE POST. _

_Sunshine's gone to the dark side - cue entrance of a bunch of TGP2 people! And d__on't hate Giselle... I'll admit, I'm having trouble not writing her as a one-dimensional villain, but I have plans for the girl, so don't kill her!_

**_cowboy-mcginty _**_brought this up and I thought I'd address this now: you know how, when I first started off this story, I said I'd try to stick to the real people's lives as much as possible? Well, I'm still going to try to do that, but the thing is, I began incorporating TGP2 characters a couple weeks __before __the premiere, as opposed to Season 1's three weeks in. So that might change some things - my first impression of Lily Mae was that she was a bubbly happy girl; Abraham seemed gay. Since then, I've found out that Abraham is Camp Straight and Lily Mae is incredibly competitive, defensive, and has a pretty sharp tongue._

_Also, I've decided that I'm going to wield my creative license liberally and create situations that__the real people are definitely not associated with__. Namely Michael and Taryn; on a lesser scale, Matheus, Tyler, erm, and probably a bunch of others. So things like real-Nellie and story-Nellie being baristas? That's true. Other things, not so much. Just remember: my story, my crazy world._

_In addition to Charlie's crazy resemblance to Cory Monteith, anybody see striking similarities between Blake and Chord Overstreet? I'll eventually explain where I'm going with this..._

_Repeating for good measure: CREATIVE LICENSE = NOT SO REAL SITUATIONS. _


	44. New Connections I

_A/N: WOOHOO THIS STORY IS ONE YEAR OLD! 24 June 2012._

_Punny title, eh? But seriously, the next couple chapters introduce a load of TGP2 characters and how they're associated with TGP1. Heh heh... _

* * *

><p>Rachel's life is falling apart.<p>

Finn's taken another step away from Rachel by actively running from her. He walks straight in the opposite direction when she approaches him; he pulls away when she tries to touch him. He doesn't talk to her, doesn't make eye contact with her, doesn't even look at her. His gaze just sort of floats over her without even registering her existence.

It's like they never even met. Like they never made out on the stage the first week he joined New Directions. Like they've never been together (on and off) for the past semester.

Even though Rachel tells herself over and over again that she doesn't care, that she can find love in other people—even girls like Quinn—she can't pretend that Finn suddenly pretending that she doesn't exist doesn't sting.

And yet another blow to her dignity: Mr. Schuester has repeatedly refused her pleas for a solo during their first competition of the year! The Glee club is her life; she's always the one to suggest possible songs for competition setlists, to remind Mike and Brittany to work on choreography, to encourage everybody else to show up for extra practices, to lead their team to victory. It's only right that she get most of the solos.

Yet for all the effort she's put into the New Directions, nobody appreciates her, and everybody takes advantage of her effort. Santana and Mercedes and Kurt sit indifferently in the background until Mr. Schuester brings up the opportunity for solos and then everybody's suddenly alive and wanting the position Rachel had worked hard to set up for herself. And now even Mr. Schuester has turned around and given the duet to Quinn and Damian, who won it in a competition/popularity contest amongst the Glee club members.

Marissa. Sunshine. And, as of this afternoon, Kurt. They've all left New Directions. Finn ignores her, people take advantage of her hard work, even Mr. Schuester has turned his back on her. The Glee club is slowly falling apart five days before Sectionals, and Rachel feels like her life is going down with it.

* * *

><p>By the end of the grueling Vocal Adrenaline practice, Sunshine is absolutely exhausted—physically and mentally. Dakota Stanley might be a genius when it comes to choreography, but he's a match for Sue Sylvester when it comes down to brutal dialogue. After four straight hours of nonstop, demeaning criticism accompanied by terrible nicknames such as "Asian Speck" and "Chinkprick", Sunshine's ready to collapse into bed and sleep. Forever.<p>

Except they haven't quite moved all the way in yet. She'll have to sleep on the floor until she can help her mother carry in and unpack everything. And that's currently impossible, with Sectionals coming up soon and Sunshine's requirement to attend all practices.

Ugh. She'll deal with that problem later. Right now her mind is too befuddled and all she wants to do is rest and regain that mental awareness. She's not used to not getting an appropriate amount of sleep and it's putting a lot of stress on her.

But there's no break for her, even as a new arrival. Sunshine had seen it coming the minute she stepped in the auditorium. These people weren't the New Directions, who were a somewhat loose family and cared for each other yet couldn't stop bickering. No, Vocal Adrenaline was ALL flat out competition. All about the victorious ends without regrets concerning the means. So when Coach Goolsby announced right then and there that Sunshine was their secret weapon and that she would take the lead for Regionals, Sunshine knew that she'd made a few enemies.

She just wasn't expecting this many enemies.

It feels like over half the club stands between her and the auditorium exit. She cautiously inches forward, and they part for her… but only slightly. Accusing eyes bore into her as she passes through their ranks in order to get to the door. Sunshine's drained and weak and she just wants to go home, and their obvious hate just whittles her down even more.

They're closing up behind her. They're caging her in. She's trapped in a circle of about twenty teenagers, all glaring at her in jealous anger. And directly in front of Sunshine stands the former female lead, her arms folded across her chest and an aggressive smirk on her face. It looks more like the hostile stance of a boy, even though the lead's wearing a dress.

"Sunshine Corazon," the girl growls. "You've just been transferred from the New Directions, I hear. You think you can just waltz in here and slip into Vocal Adrenaline without an effort?"

Sunshine stops. The circle of resentful Vocal Adrenaline members closes in on her, isolating her completely. She can feel the hate oozing off every one of them and it almost makes Sunshine want to cry. She almost misses the crazed self-obsession of a certain Ms. Rachel Berry, who hated her enough to send her to a crack house yet was kind enough to apologize profusely afterwards and encourage her to audition again.

"Please, I want to go home," she mumbles softly. She tries to push her way past the lead, but a surprisingly strong hand plants itself on her shoulder and shoves her back into the center of the circle.

"What makes you think you're so much better than all of us?" the girl demands. "What makes you think you can just step in and sing lead, huh?" She takes a step forward.

Sunshine timidly takes a step back. "I… Coach Goolsby said…"

"Hell with what Goolsby said. The point is, we've been slaving away in the background of Vocal Adrenaline for three years—every day, six to nine hours a day, barely eating, barely sleeping, working our asses off, just so we can climb to the top." The female lead takes a step forward, and Sunshine takes a step back. In the back of her mind, she suddenly feels shame for intimidating Rachel this way a couple days ago.

The tanned female lead continues advancing on Sunshine, pushing her back and up against the wall of teenagers. They roughly shove her towards the lead, and Sunshine withers in the heated wrath rolling off the girl. "We have three years of experience," the lead spits. "You had a one shining moment that turned Goolsby on and made him want you. That's all. You don't deserve the position you have right now, she you might as well—"

Something deep within Sunshine's tired mind stirs. She didn't transfer schools just to be shot down directly after the first practice. And sure, she might not have experience working in the background of Vocal Adrenaline, but that doesn't disqualify her from leading the show choir during Regionals. "You haven't even heard me sing," she argues. "And that's the point of a show choir, right? You guys are called _Vocal _Adrenaline, after all—dancing is good, but the vocals come first. That's why I'm here. I swear, Coach Goolsby didn't bring me here all the way from Lima just to put a huge dent in your pride."

The lead's pupils dilate in fury, and she suddenly brings her hand up in preparation for a vicious bitch-slap—

"Giselle, what the hell are you doing?"

An arm grabs the female lead's wrist and pulls it down. The next second, an Asian boy has shoved his way through the solid barrier of people, and he quickly slides right between Giselle and Sunshine. His stance is firm and strong, but what draws Sunshine's attention the most is the shock of red flame in the midst of his jet black hair.

"Making sure the newcomer knows her place," Giselle replies snarkily. "I have a feeling she already knows, but it doesn't hurt to have somebody remind her."

"She's the Coach's recruit," her guard snaps, and Sunshine feels her heart well in gratitude to the Asian stranger who popped up out of nowhere to defend her. "That's not something you have the right to contest on your own, especially as the _temporary_ female lead."

"And I haven't challenged Coach's decision, Abraham," Giselle bristles. "I haven't even talked to him, and I'm not planning to."

Abraham actually laughs. "So what do you call this?"

Giselle grits her teeth. "I'm simply telling her that she may not be as qualified for the position as much as she thinks herself to be, and that she should really consider her options before she jumps into the deep end." She shoots a strained, fake smile Sunshine's way. "Really, we wouldn't want our newest member collapsing of exhaustion within three practices, would we? Or failing to hit those perfect high notes—"

"I challenge you to a duel!" Sunshine shouts, stepping from behind Abraham's body. Realizing how nerdy that sounds, she clarifies, "A singing competition. No fancy tricks or dancing or flying—just _vocals. _We'll just have to see who's _really_ the superior vocalist; who's really more qualified for the lead position."

A collective gasp and a couple jeers echo around. Giselle narrows her eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she snarls.

"Are you scared?" Sunshine shoots back, unable to think of a witty answer.

Giselle's eyes snap furiously. "Tomorrow. Lunch. Better not be late, bitch." And with that, the entire circle breaks apart, following Giselle's steaming figure out the auditorium.

Sunshine's boost of adrenaline leaves with them, and she promptly collapses into the nearest chair. "Oh god," she moans.

Her defender plops down next to her. "Not bad," he compliments. He sticks out a hand. "Abraham, by the way."

Sunshine doesn't see him; she's too busy staring blankly at the ceiling. "Tina told me Vocal Adrenaline was terrible, but I didn't think…"

"Hey, we're not all evil bitches," Abraham chuckles. "What'd you say your name was?"

Sunshine finally notices his offered hand and shakes it. "Sunshine Corazon. I just moved from—"

"Abraham!" a soft voice yells from above them. Sunshine's head jerks up; the girl's voice appears to be coming from the balcony.

Abraham's eyes light up. "Nellie!"

A girl's head pops up from behind the barrier. "So, uh, I know you told me not to bring my camera, but I did anyways. I recorded the argument…"

"Yes, incriminating evidence!" Abraham cheers. "I love you so much, Nellie."

Even in the dim lighting of the auditorium, Sunshine catches the girl's blush. "Uh, so I'll send documentation around later, yeah?"

"Sure thing, girl," Abraham grins. "How's the boy doing?"

Nellie doesn't answer; a couple seconds later, she pops out of a stairwell. Sunshine's first impression is that she looks just a little Asian, and she takes an instant liking to the somewhat shy, reserved girl. "You know as much as I do," Nellie mumbles quietly, looking down at her camera.

"And by that, you mean nothing?" Abraham asks, slinging an arm around the girl's shoulder.

Nellie lays her head on Abraham's shoulder, and Abraham kisses the top of her head. He pauses, then takes a tentative sniff. "Your hair still smells like coffee," he giggles, pushing her away teasingly.

"No!" Nellie exclaims, pulling her hair out of its ponytail and running her fingers through the black strands. "I swear, I tried…"

Sunshine feels awfully like a third wheel, and she takes their open display of affection as her cue to leave. "Thanks for the help, Abraham," she says quietly, stepping back. "See you tomorrow; I've got to go—"

Abraham darts forward and grabs her wrist. "Wait a hot damn minute," he cries. "You can't just waltz off like that without some proper practice. What about your competition tomorrow? Giselle's got it out for you, girl. You can't just—"

"I usually practice at home," Sunshine says, hot blood rising in her face as she feels his soft hand around hers. "Our whole family, we sing together. And that's why I have to go home anyways; we just moved into Carmel this morning."

"Then we'll help you," Abraham says with a sense of finality. "Both with moving in and helping you practice. You'll definitely need some harmony." He sidles up right next to her and hisses conspiratorially, "Pst, we need your car."

Nellie shrugs helplessly. "Um, sure, I can come along. But I have Running Start in the mornings and work in the afternoons. And my mom expects me home for dinner. I can't stay long."

"Yeah, yeah." Abraham waves her off while flipping his phone open. "Yo! Aylin, we need help here!"

* * *

><p>"What do you feel about the new girl?" McKynleigh asks the girl sprawled out on the roof of her car.<p>

"Mhm," Lindsay grunts noncommittally. Nothing more.

Sensing she won't be able to wrangle more out of her friend, McKynleigh switches topics. "Get off the car—I need to get back home to organize photos for the school newspaper."

"I'm sunbathing," Lindsay murmurs, stretching like a cat.

McKynleigh glances up at the cloudy autumn sunset and shivers. "It's too cold."

"Well, I'm really hot," Lindsay grins, closing her eyes. Practice was especially rough today. She figures Dakota Stanley amped it up to speed up Sunshine's learning.

"Get off," McKynleigh mutters, poking the shorter girl in the hip. "And adjust yourself. You're showing."

Impishly, Lindsay pulls her yoga top lower. She can't keep a teasing smirk from playing onto her lips. "That better?"

"If you don't get off, I'm just going to hop in the car and drive. You're going to have to hang on really tight if you want your ride home…" McKynleigh's voice trails off, and after a moment of awkward silence, Lindsay opens her eyes.

McKynleigh's staring off into the empty parking lot; Lindsay follows her gaze. She spots the boy next the school: a straw cowboy hat over blonde hair reaching to his chin, _huge_ biceps in a plaid shirt, and an easygoing smile as he begins to walk towards them.

Lindsay yelps, yanks up her top to cover herself, and topples off the car. "Oh my gosh, Miki, why didn't you warn me?" Lindsay blubbers, swinging in McKynleigh's car. Her friend follows suit hurriedly, starting the car and immediately zooming off; she seems just as panicky as Lindsay is.

"I can't believe it," McKynleigh gasps.

"I know!" Lindsay exclaims, before turning around to catch a second glimpse. She squeaks, almost screaming, "God, Miki, he's chasing us! You! You made me bare myself in plain sight, right in front of him!"

"ME?" McKynleigh roars, squealing around a corner. "You're joking, right?"

Lindsay slumps down in her seat, her face absolutely red. "Geez, that was embarrassing," she mumbles. "I can't believe it… what a creeper!"

McKynleigh seems to pause. "Yeah," she says finally.

Lindsay detects something deeper going on; it's the same pregnant pause that Aylin had done with Blake earlier. McKynleigh's covering something up. But this time, as one of McKynleigh's closer friends, Lindsay has the right to be nosey. "Hmm?" she says shrewdly. "You aren't driving away from that creeper with the muscles for my sake, were you?"

McKynleigh is silent, which is just as good as any confession.

"Let me guess," Lindsay says slyly. "You moved from Kentucky two years ago, right? I'll bet the hot cowboy creeper's—OUCH!"

McKynleigh has just socked Lindsay in the shoulder. "Have you been stalking me all your life?" the girl asks, her jaw on the floor. "How the hell did you know?"

Lindsay's jaw mirrors McKynleigh's. "What? Are you serious? I was only joking…"

McKynleigh pulls onto Lindsay's street. "I can't believe it," she mutters. "I am going to drop you off at your house and we will never speak of this again."

"Yes we will!" Lindsay argues. "Your Kentucky cowboy is here to stay. Whether he's a student or stalker is still unknown, but we are going to see him again."

McKynleigh nails her with an uncharacteristically vicious glare. "Not if I can help it," she growls.

Lindsay's stunned into silence. Alright, Lindsay will not dig into that pile of crap. Still… "Lemme know his name," she pleads. "Just something to put a name to the gnawing curiosity in my gut, Miki. You know I can't help it."

McKynleigh just stares darkly at her; finally, she sighs and leans her head against her steering wheel. "Maxfield," she says stiffly. "My first."

The question pops out of Lindsay's mouth before she can hold it back. "First what?"

McKynleigh revs her car and drives away quickly.

Ooookay.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_I've been listening to Harry Potter audiobooks. Hence, "I challenge you to a duel!"_

_I committed the final act of stalkerhood by following TGP contestants on Twitter. Within twelve hours my inbox was full with a million text messages a day from Nellie and Charlie and people from last year that I forgot about like Damian and McKynleigh. Because none of the tweets actually said anything worthwhile, I un-signed-up (signed down?) from Twitter yesterday. __Well, in those two days of massive text message, I gained some useful information: like how, a couple days ago, the real life McKynleigh met the real life Maxfield. And Aylin's moved to LA and Nellie's following soon. I've gotten tons of pictures of Aylin, Charlie, Blake, and Abraham just hanging out. Saw a gorgeous shot of Alex in drag. Hoo boy. Was constantly updated about Sam Donovan's update posts._

_Oh Twitter…_

_Thanks to all you reviewers! Especially those who reviewed twice!_

_**CartoonistGirl6**_

_**cowboy-mcginty**__ – Whoops, sort of skipped out on the Damsay date. I'm trying to get a move on—this story has to finish at some point, yet I still haven't hit Sectionals!  
>I sort of love Sunshine. Hence, lots of Sunshine the next couple chapters. That, and she's the one who opens up a whole new world within Carmel High School, where several TGP2 characters are going to pop up.<em>

_**TealCrystalCAT**__ – I had so much fun writing the Damsay unexpected date prep scene! Once I got to the actual date part, though… yeah. I just didn't write it. Too lazy, no inspiration, crazy hour of the night and I just wanted to go to bed. Excuses, excuses._

_**littlehoneypot**__ – Bryrissa? Marribryce? Ugh shipping names. Thanks for the constant reviews though! _

_**aleja1**__ – WOW. That would be incredible. Absolutely. DO IT.  
>Actually, during high school, I wrote a 100,000 word story about all of my high school buddies in a clash of superpowers, split into teams of people trying to take over the world and others trying to defend it. It took maybe three years. I killed off a lot of people in the end :) But no, nothing good enough to be a money-making novel. Thanks for the compliment though!<em>

_**Mary in the Stars**__ – WOOHOO. Awesome multiple chapter review. Thanks!  
>Bahaha Michael as a DQ stripper… I thought DQ was an ice cream store!<br>Whew, I actually forgot about Marissa and Brittany. I may have to bring that back. Brittany POVs are generally a blast to write anyways.  
>Ohhoho, thanks for the Bryce-Lindsay-Damian-Marissa plot idea! I've got a lot planned already so it probably won't show up for another 10 chapters or so, but your idea's in the works now.<br>Drama before a major competition is what the New Directions does best! And I've already got people shuffled nicely into Westerville, Carmel, and Lima… so the drama's just going to get just a little more intense!_

_**TheGleekFromDeathlyHallows**__ – NO I LIKE YOUR LONG REVIEWS. AUGH NELLIE.  
>Sorry, I don't speak grunt… what does "unf"<em> _mean? And is Glenn Coco a reference?_

_**AshtrayTragedyM.D**__ – It's all going to be a part of Abraham's story! Spoiler for you, though: don't worry, I won't. _

_**polarpi**_

_**Lovely Chaster**_

_**gleekster2915**_

_**Charlotte Pecot** and **tharuka**__ – Androgynous doesn't mean gay and that's something I want to emphasize in Dani. So eventual Danellie friendship, yes! Gah though even that's going to take a while... I still haven't gotten Dameron together!_


	45. New Connections II

_A/N: Sorry for the late update; the past couple days have been completely consumed reading "Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality" by **Less Wrong**. Simply incredible - a completely alternate universe in which Harry Potter is possibly the most rational and ambitious ten-year old in the entire world, yet the plot is so intriguing that I'm willing to suspend my disbelief. Dumbledore is less perfect, Draco Malfoy is less a wimpy git and more of a manipulative friend, Hermione Granger is competition for the both of them, Professor McGonagall is relatable, and Professor Quirrell is pretty much an evil genius. Also, the story has ~18,000 reviews. So. Definitely worth the read, if you can stick around for 500,000 words._

**Featured songs:**  
>"Won't Stop" by OneRepublic<p>

* * *

><p>Damian must agree with the rest of the school: Quinn is very pretty.<p>

And just as intense as Lindsay. They circle around each other, eyes in constant contact, and Damian feels that unbridled emotion flowing from her into him.

But he's attached to another girl and it doesn't affect him as strongly as it would Sam. (Or Finn, Damian reminds himself; Sam and Quinn broke up a while ago. Relationships in the New Directions are so short-lived—but Damian intends to keep Lindsay close forever.)

_Now you were fine by night, but when the morning light comes,  
>Comfortable as rain on Sunday and I'm a lucky soul<br>That holds your hand so tight, hope you hear this one day.  
>Don't fool yourself, this is my truth.<em>

_I swear it's you, I swear it's you, I swear it's you that I waited for._  
><em>I swear it's you, I swear it's you, I swear it's you that my heart beats for.<em>  
><em>And it ain't gonna stop, no it just won't stop.<em>

Thankfully there isn't much choreography as the lead; he just holds Quinn, his hands on her hips as he sways behind her, and that's it. Finn doesn't look too happy with the arrangement. Rachel looks even unhappier. And all the way in the back, Matheus looks the unhappiest; this is their first practice without Sunshine, and the room feels just a bit darker because of it.

"Energy, guys!" Mr. Schuester shouts. "Where's all that gleeful energy we had last week?" He turns to Damian and Quinn, smiling broadly. "Great voices, you two," he compliments. "Damian, I need a bit more passion. You've been waiting for her all semester, and now she's yours. I want to feel that glorious satisfaction!"

Again with the chain of unhappy looks: Finn at Quinn, Rachel at Finn, Artie at Tina, Matheus at the ground. Sam glances between Quinn and Matheus with a strange expression on his face. Brittany, on the other hand, is looking straight at Damian quite happily. He cringes inwardly; his relationship with her had been extremely short—maybe six days?—but all the more passionate to make up for it. It still gives him unpleasant memories, especially now that he finally has the girl he's wanted all semester.

And, as they prepare to rehearse the Sectionals number again, the girl he wants is not Quinn.

Similar, though, and they need that emotion for Sectionals. So he thinks hard, mentally turning Quinn's sweet blonde hair dark, paling those green eyes into intense blue ones, reshaping the face…

"Great practice, guys," Mr. Schuester congratulates at the end of their extra practice. "Five days to Sectionals! See you all tomorrow."

Quinn pulls away from Damian, immediately cozying up to Finn. The large quarterback smiles tenderly, wraps a huge arm around her waist, which is still a little filled out from her pregnancy last year, and pulls her close.

Rachel's face contorts into one huge mess of emotion. She leaves quickly.

Damian's about to slide over to Hannah and Matheus—their initial group just keeps shrinking, he thinks sadly—when an arm links into his. "Damian!" Brittany exclaims. "You need a ride home, right?"

"My mom usually picks me up," Damian mumbles. He's had enough experience riding in Brittany's car anyways; it's a rollercoaster and a half, without the safety mechanisms. Also, Brittany child-locks her passenger doors, preventing unwilling riders from bailing out.

Besides, she smells of sweat and it stings his memory.

"Your mom isn't available," Brittany chirps, dragging him out of the choir room. "Check your phone."

Damian jerks his arm out of her grasp; he isn't as averse to hurting her feelings as he was the first time he met her, now that he knows just how rough she can be. "How do you know?" he says a little too harshly as he spots the voicemail icon on his phone.

Her child-like demeanor droops instantly, and Damian feels a stab of guilt. This feeling immediately evaporates the minute she finishes her next sentence.

"Your mom's at my house," she says. "You're moving in."

Damian's heart plunges into his stomach.

* * *

><p>Abraham's friends Blake and Aylin are waiting at Sunshine's residence when they arrive in Nellie's car.<p>

"I live down that way," the boy grins as he comes out of the condo, pointing down the row of narrow three-story apartments all crammed together on the same block. He has his soft brown hair styled just like Sam's, swooshed to the side. "We just spotted the moving truck, told your mom we knew you, and—"

"She baked us the most amazing cookies!" a girl yelps, popping out the door. She looks doesn't look American, with her facial structure and naturally tanned skin. "Hey, I'm Aylin."

Blake and Abraham grab each other's hand and chest bump. "This is my man Blake," Abraham introduces. He turns to the pair standing next to the door. "Yo! Why'd you get started without us?"

"Took you long enough," Blake smirks as he follows Aylin to the open back of the truck. "We pretty much finished everything without you." He grins and flexes his arm. Biceps pop. Nellie quickly snaps a picture of his bravado pose, smiling somewhat shyly.

Sunshine taps Abraham's shoulder. "We already moved most everything in," she says, grinning a little. "I was just going to help my mom arrange furniture. That'll take some time, which is why I—"

"No problem, whatever," Abraham replies dismissively. "We've got your back, Sunny." He elbows Blake as he passes the boy on the way to the front door. "And Blake'll always be just three doors down."

Abraham's so relaxed and chill that it unnerves Sunshine slightly; she appreciates the help, but walking into her house and calling her Sunny right off the bat?

"Why are you helping me?" she asks timidly as she follows Abraham into the house.

"We heard you stood up against Giselle, and that you even challenged her," Aylin replies from behind Sunshine, her eyes on her phone as she texts and skillfully avoids all the boxes on the living room floor. "About some time somebody knocked that bully around. That, and you knocked Lindsay down a step." Aylin's face darkens.

"She isn't half that bad," Abraham comments.

The corners of Blake's cheerful smile droop downwards. "You didn't see her blame Aylin for her mistake."

* * *

><p>"Walk me home?" Hannah asks in a proper, lady-like manner.<p>

Matheus snaps out of his funk, glances up into the grinning face of his friend, and bows chivalrously. "Of course, milady."

"Hannah," a voice calls from down the hall. "Do you want a ride?" Both turn to see Quinn, walking quickly towards them while pulling her lengthy blonde hair into a ponytail.

"Oh, well, I live just five minutes away," she says, glancing sideways at Matheus. "But hey, you've met Matheus, right? He lives a bit further—"

Quinn's lips thin in what appears to be a grimace. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Hannah looks between Quinn and Matheus helplessly. "Uh, can't Matheus—"

Quinn leans forward and finishes softly, "I wanted to talk to you about you-know-who."

Matheus' redheaded friend stiffens up visibly. "Oh. Quinn. Yeah, about that… later? I think I'll just walk with Mat—"

Quinn's eyes widen as footsteps echo down the hall. She quickly composes herself, grabs Hannah's hand, and says firmly, "We'll talk later," before spinning off and quickly striding away. Matheus glances around Hannah's figure and spots Sam, who's stopped a couple yards down from them and is staring at Quinn's retreating back.

Matheus remembers the first time he met Sam—the sheltered blonde boy had been floored by Quinn. Matheus helped him contact Quinn, but it was Sam's quarterback position that ultimately got him the girl—and prompted him to forget all about Matheus. It hurt a little, seeing one of his first friends at McKinley High ditch him due to popularity. But hey, he found more friends in Hannah and Damian and Sunshine…

…except Sunshine apparently doesn't value him as much he did her. She just up and left without even talking to him. Just when he thought they were getting pretty close…

Well, Sam's looking just as hurt as he feels now, so Matheus decides to extend the offer of friendship again. "Hey Sam!" he calls. "You live in our neighborhood—want to walk home with us?"

Sam's eyes flicker to his and just stares. There's a bit of silence; there seem to be a lot of thoughts and emotions racing through the blonde's eyes. Matheus waits patiently though, and Sam finally says, "Yeah. Sure. I rode my bike here… but yeah, I'd like that."

Matheus grins at Sam, and Sam grins back.

* * *

><p>"What are we doing here?" Ellis moans. "It's late at night and we've all been herded into a sketch-looking shed."<p>

"Shh," hisses a large girl with waves of caramel blonde hair. Her dress is a little too short for St. Mary's standard, but then again, half the girls at the all-girls' school like showing a little leg, and the boys at Dalton Academy aren't complaining. "Blaine told us to come here. It's _Blaine_."

"Just because Blaine thinks our boobs are about as attractive as our elbows, doesn't mean his roommate thinks the same way," Ellis shoots back. From what Ellis has seen from Bryce's Facebook, Marissa is no longer interested in Cameron. Surely the nerd must know by now and be on the rebound, likely to fall for any girl gushing about the beatboxing Warbler performance about to go down.

Though why they chose such a ghetto-looking shelter, Ellis will never know. Sure, there are no female teenagers allowed within Dalton Academy after 10pm, and no males in St. Mary's School after 8pm, so any performances must be held outside campus—but choosing a worn, empty warehouse just screams kidnapping and rape and all kinds of horrible—

The chatter dies down suddenly as music blasts from loudspeakers positioned around them, and spotlights (how'd they get spotlights here?) focus on the scaffolding in front of them.

Beatboxing Dalton Warblers emerge from behind boxes, and Blaine jumps onto the scaffolding. "Welcome, ladies!" he exclaims, his eyes shining with excitement. The front rows of girls scream excessively. Ellis rolls her eyes. Beside her, Emily squeals and jumps up and down just to add to the chaos.

It works; it's several seconds before Blaine feels satisfied with volume control. "I'm glad you could all make it," Blaine yells over the rabid fangirls. "Because every one of you is incredibly important to us. We asked all of you for your keen sense of judgment, because Sectionals is in five days and we'd like to do a trial run of our set list. By coming to a performance of the Dalton Academy Warblers, you have agreed that you will not disclose our set list to our competitors, and you refrain from using multiple exclamation points in your constructive criticisms. In addition—"

"Just start singing already!" a nearby girl shrieks. "I want to drown in your supermegafoxyawesomeh—" Her voice is cut off when the large girl next to Ellis claps a hand over the girl's mouth.

"Shut up! You do not interrupt the man!"

"Alright," Blaine says swiftly, fearing a possible riot. "Just one more thing: three Warblers are competing for a solo during Sectionals, and we need your help to decide who should represent the Warblers to the world! Write your vote on your paper invitation and slip it into the vote box on your way out. Now, ladies, I present to you: Alex!"

As Alex, a large African-American boy with the voice of a powerhouse diva, climbs onto the scaffolding platform slightly below Blaine, Emily screams and jumps up and down for real this time and channels her voice throughout the entire shed. Girls directly in the path of sound cringe, but nonetheless, Emily's plan works, and the crowd of girls cheers loudly (but only because everybody around them seems to be screaming their lungs out.)

"Next up: our newest Warbler, the insanely talented Mario!"

A particular section of girls burst into applause. Ellis peers at the second Warbler climbing up next to Alex: also African-American, but much taller, more built, and… blind? Figuring that she might as well give him a chance, Ellis adds her applause.

"And last but definitely not least, Cameron!"

The entire group bursts into polite applause; everybody knows Cameron as one of the few guys who owns a car, but other than that, not much else is known. He transferred in a year and a half ago, but he was so quiet and reserved that none of the girls at St. Mary's noticed him until months later. Still, a couple girls think his nerdiness is adorable.

Except the Cameron that climbs onto the stage is anything but. It looks more like he's striking out his own path, with pants that cling so tight to his legs that it looks like he borrowed a pair from a woman, hair gelled up into a fashionable ridge, and _no glasses_. His boxy black-rimmed glasses are gone, and the boy left behind looks sleek and suave and not the same guy that he was before Project GCAMBT screwed him over.

Damn.

As far as Ellis knows, Project GCAMBT ended with that apology song a couple weeks ago that failed to do anything other than send Marissa out the door crying, straight into the arms of Bryce. Bryce, the boy Emily still wants desperately.

She hasn't heard from Sunshine in a week, and Sunshine was her only source of information between St. Mary's/Dalton Academy and McKinley High.

So Marissa's with Bryce, Cameron's reinventing himself, and Emily still doesn't have what she wants. That makes her an unhappy emotional girl, and when momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

Ellis has got her work cut out for her.

Complicated love polygons, oh joy.

* * *

><p>Sunshine's family doesn't own that much, so moving in is completed within an hour. The cupboard has been stockpiled, the kitchen and dining room arranged, and the bedrooms somewhat organized; the only things left are boxes of clothes and books stacked in the living room around a comfy-looking old plush couch.<p>

Aylin's back to texting once again when Blake comes up behind her and gives her a little push. She stumbles over a box of books and shoots headlong into the couch. "Blake!" she squeals.

Sunshine quickly darts forward and pulls the girl off the scrappy piece of furniture. "We, uh, haven't disinfected that yet," she admits. "We pulled it out of the dumpster. So, you know, better safe than sorry."

Aylin's eyes widen and she socks Blake in the shoulder. "Blake!" she shrieks again and tries to punch him again, but Blake grabs her hands and twists them around, leading her in a crazy dance around the living room, tripping over boxes and laughing.

Nellie smiles at the two's antics, then suddenly pats the back pocket of her jeans as her phone vibrates. Abraham promptly slaps her other back pocket while Nellie's distracted with her phone.

"Abraham!" Nellie snaps, her entire upper body flushing red as she smacks him on the head and walks outside to answer the phone. "Charlie! Where were you?" she hisses, the irritated disappointment drifting down the hallway.

Abraham's gay, Sunshine mentally decides. He's got to be. His sassy language and flamboyant clothing and just the way he moves his body even when walking… and what girl would let a straight guy slap her ass without kicking _his_ ass into next week?

"That's a pretty nice couch for dumpster diving," Abraham remarks, marking conversation.

Sunshine smiles weakly; for some odd reason, her heart just dropped a little. "I think I'll take naps on it between practices so I won't drift off into a deep sleep."

Abraham looks at her, one eyebrow raised. "Between practices, honey? There is no time between practices, except for food. 6 to 8:30am for optional-but-pretty-much-mandatory morning practice and 3:15 to 10pm for regular practice, with an hour dinner break done in twenty-person shifts from 4:30 to 8pm so that practice keeps going. That's why Vocal Adrenaline has been the National champions for four years: because we lose ten years of our lives practicing nonstop."

Sunshine's eyes bug. "You're not serious, are you?"

Abraham's lips press into a thin line. "I'm afraid so, hon," he says. "Better learn fast, yeah? You're the lead. Here, let me show you some dance moves." He jerks his head in Blake and Aylin's direction; the two are still dancing/wrestling/giggling around the couch, dodging boxes and trying to knock the other on the possibly infected couch.

"W-w-wha? Really?"

"Yeah, Sunny. You'll need to learn fast." Abraham grips both her hands firmly. "You ready for this?"

"Not really," Sunshine says timidly. "I can't really dance. I was so bad, the New Directions just stuck me in the back…"

"Then obviously they were missing out," Abraham says softly, drawing her close. Sunshine blushes as she feels every his puff of breath tingle across her scalp. What is she doing, falling for a guy who's not on her team? "Don't worry, Sunny; you'll do great. We're all behind you."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Check out cameronmitchellmusic's first Youtube video "Let's Stay Together" to get a feel for the glasses-less Cameron._

__I'm going to go for weekly updates up till the beginning of the school year, whereupon I will enter graduate school and thus devote my life to my studies for the next four years. I still plan on updating until I finish this story, though! It just may not be as frequent as the summertime.__

__Thanks to all you reviewers!__

__**cowboy-mcginty** - I figured that it was about time for McKynleigh to get a plot of her own; so far, both she and Samuel have only served as Lindsay's moral support. Their lack of plot will be addressed with the arrival of Maxfield...  
><em>_

__**littlehoneypot**  
><em>_

__**LovelyChaster** - Another Asian fusion on the level of Mike and Tina? Whew. Truthfully, I'd like to see how their relationship plays out over long-distance. __

__**TheGleekFromDeathlyHallows** - VAGUE SPOILER Charlie and Nellie are in one of those relationships where both sides are in agreement about where they are. Interpret that how you will.  
>Tyler referenced your story in a Tweet ZOMG ksdornfwaiodsxl wow. I saw it and was like, "No way, the real people are reading our fictionalized, incredibly inaccurate portrayals of them? *gulp*<br>__

__**CartoonistGirl6**  
><em>_

__**polarpi** - nope, no creepy, one-dimensional characterizations here. Though misguided first impressions, yes. First impressions are hardly ever correct, though.__

__**TealCrystalCAT** - So I went and stalked your profile and found your TGP/Glee/Harry Potter crossover. LOVE. i haven't gotten very far since I got hooked up on "Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality" but I've got to say that it's great writing (proper grammar is always a major turn on; improper use always grates my nerves so much that I can't read it no matter how intriguing the plot is) and keep it up!  
>Michellie? Yeah, maybe ;) Blanna... not so much.<em>_

__**Anon** - Blylin relationship will soon be elaborated upon. It's not what you think...__

__**Charlotte Pecot** - Okay, that little bit about Dani's girlfriend changed my mind completely on how I'm going to approach her. Shoot, and I already had stuff planned out... hm... well, like this story's Dameron, it's going to be a loooong while before Dani and Nellie even begin to interact regularly with each other. Just like this story's Damian and Cameron had a bunch of hurdles to overcome first - same thing with Nellie.  
><em>_

__**rmya55** - well, you'll just have to wait for updates and keep on reading to find out pairings ;)  
><em>_

__**xxBlaineXKurtxx**  
><em>_

__**Cola-Flavoured Sherbet** - Bah, too bad that, in terms of Glee, Quinn's on a completely different level than Rory is. What I mean to say is that Quinn is main character status, and Rory's just another background character with a cool accent. I totally agree with the people complaining that Lindsay and Alex got more action with two-episode roles than both Rory and Samuel combined. That being said, Wade/Unique? WOW. I love that character. And that open-ended offer "Maybe Unique will have to transfer to McKinley" - PLEASE. Great character representing a great concept.  
><em>_

__**FireWorkGold** - I feel like the only reason I got so many reviews is because mine was one of the first 20 stories or so about the Glee Project. And then I kept on adding more and more chapters, and more and more people reviewed, and the snow ball effect from there. Welp, I'm not complaining!  
><em>_

__**Guest** - Once a week, up until the fall semester. Then I get to devote my life towards studying for my professional job!  
><em>_

__**I'maf**kingdreamer **(heh heh) - Hooboy reading all of this in one sitting? Wow, congrats! PAIRING SPOILERS though Damsay's going to hit bumps soon, the path of Camrissa has already diverged so far, I really don't know where Faberry is going, and Blylin aren't in your usual relationship. Once again, I'm not going to outright state pairings (...except these ones...), you're going to have to stick around to find out!  
><em>_

__**bethany. kate. 75** - lots of hints for Michellie. Hmm I wonder...  
><em>_

__**Natrona Kagurame and Saphia** - SPOILER way to catch that: the Important Haircut, and, because this is Glee, accompanied by Important Song :) The Important Event won't be for a while, though.  
><em>_


	46. New Connections III

**Featured songs:**  
>"Hey Soul Sister" by Train<br>"If I Had You" by Adam Lambert  
>"Worry Is War" by Cameron Mitchell (yes, his own original song!)<br>"Give Me Everything" by Pitbull

* * *

><p>The crowd of St. Mary's girls is growing restless; their curfew is at 10pm after all, and, though most are eager for a Warbler performance, it's almost 9:15 and all are itching to go home. So it's a relief when Blaine finally stops talking and slips into performance mode, with his twinkling eyes and suave movements, transitioning from smooth walk to coordinated dance move. Warblers jump onto the scaffolding around him while Alex, Cameron, and Mario keep their positions on either side of Blaine. Ellis leans forward, interested; are they planning a mashup?<p>

Upbeat, peppy, adorable: Blaine starts it off with a bubbly Train cover. Ellis smiles; of course Blaine would choose this song.

_Your lipstick stains on the front lobe of my left side brains  
>I knew I wouldn't forget you and so I went and let you blow my mind<br>Your sweet moonbeam, the smell of you in every single dream I dream  
>I knew when we collided you're the one I have decidedwho's one of my kind.<em>

The boys shuffle around, and Alex steps up to the front, limelight focused on him. He launches straight into the bridge of an Adam Lambert dance song so he belt right away. Emily might be actively encouraging the cheering, but Alex's incredibly wide pitch range and full use of it certainly deserves it.

_The flashing of the lights—It might feel so good but I got you stuck on my mind, yeah  
>The fashion and the stage, it might get me high but it don't mean a thing tonight<br>That would be the only thing I'd ever need, yeah if I had you  
>The money, fame and fortune never could compete<br>If I had you, life would be a party it'd be ecstasy  
>Yeah if I had you, y-y-y-y-you, y-y-y-y-y-you, y-y-y-y-y-you, if I had you!<em>

Cameron slides suavely in front of Blaine as the tempo picks up and a synthetic soundtrack takes place of the usual beatboxers—drums, crazy guitar, and electric piano. Cameron loosens his tie, tosses his navy blue blazer off the scaffolding, and runs his fingers through his gelled hair, thoroughly messing it up into random waves and peaks. His voice, robust and appropriately energetic and full of life, reverberates around the warehouse.

_How many days do I have to see before this war destroys you and me? Ohhh  
>Is it a number that I read, or tell me it's over before I pray? Ohhh<br>Time will never heal the wounds, love's a feeling you can't undo._

_Worry, you hurt me; I'm not falling back where we started.  
><em>_You keep on calling but could it be I'm finally out? Only you, only you._

Cameron looks every bit a rebel—none of that nerdy geek he'd been pegged with the instant most girls saw him. Even Ellis is pretty impressed; either this is a pretty convincing performance, and Cameron will revert back to quiet nerd with glasses after the show… or he's been hiding this wild side all along and is just letting it loose. Either way, the crowd of girls love it, cheering loudly.

Ellis thinks the former. Stage Cameron vs. Real Life Cameron.

Mario walks up to the front somewhat cautiously. The spotlights swivel onto him, revealing milky eyes that seem to be permanently rolled upwards, and girls gasp as they confirm that the wide-shouldered African American truly is blind.

The minute he opens his mouth, though, it's obvious that Mario's disability has never held him back. His voice is deep and rich and he freely embellishes the lyrics of an otherwise fast-paced rapping song.

_Excuse me, I might drink a little more than I should tonight  
>And I might take you home with me if I could tonight<br>And, baby, Ima make you feel so good, tonight  
>Cause we might not get tomorrow<em>

_Tonight—I want all of you tonight, give me everything tonight_  
><em>For all we know we might not get tomorrow, let's do it tonight.<em>

The minute Mario's short solo ends, the lights go out. A couple girls shriek in fright, but the entire warehouse lights up seconds later to reveal all the Warblers on the scaffolding, with Blaine dancing center, Alex up on the highest platform and belting, Cameron's soulful voice echoing on Blaine's other side, and Mario safely down on the floor up front.

Just the sight of Mario dancing in time with the rest of the Warblers is pretty impressive, considering that he can't actually see his neighbors—but then again, as long as Mario's following the music, then he should have no problem. Still, he does all the right moves at the right time—spinning on one foot, dropping to his knees and springing back up, skipping over to one side—Ellis wonders how much time it took for him to rehearse.

_Hey soul sister, ain't that mister mister on the radio, stereo  
>The way you move ain't fair you know<br>Hey soul sister, I don't wanna miss a single thing you do… tonight._

Rabid fangirls drown out the Warblers as they conclude their mashup. The earsplitting screams almost makes Ellis wish she wasn't here… but then again, she has really got to meet these guys.

Then she spots Emily surging through the crowd of girls towards her and sighs.

Oh. Right. Project GCAMBT update.

* * *

><p>"Sorry Nellie, I just got a little distracted," Charlie says.<p>

"Too busy to reply a text?" Nellie groans, sitting on the steps outside Sunshine's condo and watching the last glimmers of light from the sun disappear under the horizon.

"Not too busy to hang out," he says, and she can feel his grin through the phone. "You want to watch a movie?"

Nellie glances at the clock on her phone. It's already 9:30pm. She needs to wake up at 4am for the 5:30 shift she's covering tomorrow at the Lima Bean. But she's already in Carmel, about ten minutes from Charlie's house…

…and they haven't spent that much time together recently. Charlie's been pretty busy lately, and Nellie's taking community college classes and they both have projects to work on and living in separate towns really sucks. At best, Skype lets them talk face-to-face, but they haven't had more than a couple hours on the weekends.

Three years. They've been going out for three years. Even if it feels like their relationship has cooled, Nellie can't really imagine life without him—Charlie's her closest friend, her confidante, the one she tells everything to, the one who knows her inside out and knows exactly what she wants and what to do when she freaks out or—

Nellie exhales noisily. "I don't know," she says vaguely. "I have to work tomorrow."

"I thought you had class at 9."

"Yeah, but I'm covering Taryn's shift," Nellie replies. "She's going through a rough time; I think she's going to quit soon."

"You're not seriously going to take her shift permanently, are you?" Charlie reproaches. "You can't handle that, Nell. Taking four classes and working again in the afternoons—"

Nellie smiles softly. "I'm not," she reassures. "They'll hire somebody else to open shop."

"That's good," Charlie says, and she can feel his grin again. "I miss you, babe."

"I miss you too," Nellie whispers.

"Come over here. Please."

If he already knew that she was already in Carmel, camping out in front of Sunshine's house, he would have playfully demanded that she come over right now. But Nellie doesn't know if she can afford that; it's already a half-hour drive from here to her home back in Lima. And she likes getting at least seven hours of sleep a night. This past week of covering Taryn's shifts and having only six-hour nights has been pretty hard on her.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," Nellie apologizes. "I would if I could…" She's so close already, and it breaks her heart not to take another step towards Charlie's… but she has an exam at the end of this week and she needs to study and sleep.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. Charlie has his excuses and Nellie has hers. They've been floating apart ever so slowly but Nellie can't imagine a life with Charlie by her side.

Charlie sounds incredibly disappointed. "Okay, I'll let you have your beauty sleep. Night, Nell."

"Night, Charlie. I love you."

"I love you too."

_Click_.

* * *

><p>It's impossible to hate Brittany.<p>

But the thought of having to _live_ with her after breaking up with her last week is driving Damian's mind crazy.

That, and he's desperately wishing he'd run while he had the chance. Anything is better than the hell he's going through right _now_.

Brittany's car pops onto the curb as she veers around a corner too sharply. They narrowly miss a fire hydrant, and then the whole car shakes again as they fall off the curb.

"Brittany, could you slow down?" Damian squeaks.

Brittany steers with one hand and, through the open windows, lets her other hand surf on the turbulent air currents. "What?" she yells as the wind whips her blond hair around her face.

"Watch out!" Damian screams as they rapidly approach an old lady crossing the road with her poodle. Brittany doesn't slow down; she yanks the wheel to the side instead, and they take a shortcut through somebody's yard onto a parallel street. "Oh my god, oh my god, please stop…" Damian whimpers.

"Shortcut," Brittany explains.

BUMP.

"Garbage can," Brittany says dismissively.

BUMP BUMP.

"…More garbage cans?" Brittany tries.

CRUNCH.

"Waaaaaugh!"

SPLASH.

"We hit somebody!" Damian shouts, sitting up straight. He tries to open the door before realizing that 1) Brittany is still driving and 2) the stupid child lock is on again and he can't open his door from the inside.

"Garbage cans don't talk," Brittany says, her brow furrowing. She slams on the brakes, pulls up the emergency brake, and hops outside.

Now that the sun has set, Damian can't see anything outside, and he soon realizes why: Brittany forgot to turn on the headlights. Since he can't get out his door, he slides across to the driver's side and slips out.

"Brittany?" Damian yells, pulling out his phone and using its screen as a dim flashlight in the evening twilight. They're on a gravel road in an area that Damian doesn't recognize next to a small pond. In the middle of the small body of water sits—

"Are you alright?" Damian hollers as he splashes into the shallow pond. It's more like a stagnant marsh than anything else—incredibly muddy. Damian's sneakers fill with wet dirt instantly and he finds it hard to move.

"What were you thinking?" barks the person sitting in the muddy water a couple feet away. "You could have killed me!"

"I wasn't driving!" Damian shouts back, reaching the guy. It's so dark that he can't see much, other than the fact that the guy looks small and skinny. "My friend was." He stops. Where is Brittany anyways? He glances around but doesn't spot her. "What happened anyways?" he says, turning his attention back to the guy. "You aren't hurt?"

"Dirty, wet, and pretty much screwed over," the guy says. "Your car just crunched my bike! I barely avoided getting hit by throwing myself off at the last minute."

"I am so sorry," Damian says, offering the guy a hand. "My friend, uh, she's not the brightest—what am I saying? I really don't know how she got her license."

The guy takes it and Damian's surprised by how light he is. The guy pops up so fast that he crashes into Damian and they barely avoid falling in the other direction. "Whoops," the guy says, his voice squeaking up an octave or so.

"I'm really sorry," Damian apologizes again. "I don't know where Brittany is, but let's—"

"Brittany? Brittany _Pierce_?" the guy exclaims. "Are you serious? Brittany can drive?"

"You know her?"

"We've been going to the same schools for years," the guy says, and Damian realizes belatedly that of course all the kids in Lima probably grew up knowing everybody else their age. "Whatever, I need a ride home anyways," he says as they both slosh up onto solid ground. "I don't think my bike's in working condition."

The headlights on Brittany's car flash onto them suddenly, and Brittany pops out of her car. "I hit Lord Tubbington," she says mournfully, cradling the huge cat in her arms. "He's okay, but I think we destroyed his bicycle." She eyes the guy next to Damian. "Where did she come from?"

Damian does a double take, and in the light of the headlights, he sees the roundness of the guy's face and soft eyes. Wait, she? Damian just stares at him/her for a while, trying to pull hints from the body or clothing or anything… but nothing about the person has a feminine or masculine suggestion to it.

"Um, this is the guy you hit," Damian says slowly, still trying to figure out whether the guy is male or female. How did Brittany know?

Brittany just looks confused. "Lord Tubbington's bike didn't have a passenger seat."

The guy speaks again, and Damian tentatively decides on female. Or prepubescent boy. "I'm Dani, remember?" she says exasperatedly. "We were in the same first grade class."

"I've been in first grade three times," Brittany says blankly, her voice still not showing any recognition.

"Oh. Right. Uh, I taught you how to tie your shoes during recess in elementary school."

Brittany blinks. "I don't know how to tie my shoes." She points down to her slip-on shoes.

Dani groans. "Ugh. Whatever. You need to drive me home."

"Lord Tubbington's injured," Brittany murmurs. "Damian'll drive."

Damian takes a step back. "I can't drive!" he says frantically. "I don't have a license."

"Go figure," Dani mutters, clumps of drying mud dropping off her clothes as she steps towards the car. "I'll drive."

* * *

><p>He'd sung his best, but, judging from the audience reaction, Cameron has a feeling Alex has got the part. Which is great, because Alex has a powerhouse of a voice and an incredible range to boot. Definitely a great shoo-in for Sectionals.<p>

Still, Cameron's just a little disappointed. He really wants that Sectionals solo.

"Cameron!" a voice cries. Cameron glances over his shoulder; there's a blonde girl fighting against the current of St. Mary's students fleeing back to their boarding school. After all, it is 9:45pm; they'll all have to run back if they want to get back before the doors close and avoid detention. So the fact that this girl is taking a moment to talk to him is impressive enough.

He turns around and faces her, his hands deep in his pockets. The blonde skids to a halt in front of him, tucking away thin strands of flyaway hair. "I'm Shanna," the girl grins. "We go to the same church."

Cameron's eyebrows rise and he takes a closer look at her. She does seem familiar; he feels like he should remember a pretty face like hers.

"I almost didn't recognize you when Blaine called you out!" the girl exclaims. "What happened to you?" She gestures to his hair, his face, his clothes.

Cameron runs his palm along his gelled hair gingerly. "Have you _seen_ Blaine without obscene amounts of gel in his hair?" he retorts. "It was only a matter of time before it spread into my territory."

Shanna laughs, a high tinkling note. "I think it's cute," she giggles. "It's a different you. And what happened to your glasses? Are you wearing contacts now?"

"I lost them," Cameron says as indifferently as possible, trying to draw his mind away from the painful memory. He took the fake glasses off after singing an apology to Marissa and he doesn't remember putting them back on. They probably fell out of his pocket or something. Weeks later, he still doesn't know what happened to them.

That's in his past though. The glasses, the bushy hair, whatever. He's trying out something new, something else while Marissa takes her time deciding what she wants to do with her life. If she ever comes back around, he'll be there for her. If she doesn't…

…Cameron's not sure what he'll do. Waiting. Waiting for a train that'll never come.

"Anyways, I thought you were incredible up there," Shanna compliments. "Truly belting to Jesus! And I just wanted to let you know that I voted for you." Without warning, she suddenly hugs him. "I've got to take off—curfew, you know," she says, backing away towards the exit. "Sectionals are this weekend, right? I'll be rooting for you, Cameron!"

Cameron notices that most of the St. Mary's school girls have long gone, and he can't picture Shanna running five blocks to the school all by herself. "Wait!" he says spontaneously, running up next to her. "I'll drive you back."

Shanna's huge grin grows just a little bit wider, and she curtsies. "Why, how chivalrous," she says. "Thank you, Cameron."

"You'll have to pardon my car, though," Cameron begins as they walk out of the warehouse together. Blaine catches his eye as they exit and winks. Cameron shoots him a glare.

"I've heard all about it," Shanna chuckles, oblivious to their silent interaction. "The Camerobile: a multicolored mode of transportation, spacious enough to fit up to eight Warblers and one bag of groceries each."

A grin breaks its way onto Cameron's face as he opens her door for her. "The Camerobile, at your service."

Shanna gives him a sly look. "Why thank you, Cameron."

Cameron's face burns at what might have been a miscommunication, but he quickly hops in the car. "Your curfew's at 10, right?" He glances at the clock—9:55pm. "I'd better drive there fast."

"Careful," Shanna says with just a bit of worry as the car clunks to life and begins to move down the back roads. Shanna glances behind at the shed as they pull away. "Why such a dumpy place?"

"Closest area with a large, open space," Cameron explains. "Dalton does have an auditorium—that's where Sectionals is going to be. But after last month's scandal…"

Shanna nods. "The matrons were furious," she discloses. "It wasn't Emily this time, but her multiple late night disappearances put them on high alert and that's how they found out about the other three girls."

Cameron's brow furrows. "I thought there was only one girl."

"One girl going to Dalton," Shanna corrects. "The other two were sneaking into the Nightrose—you know, the gay nightclub downtown? And engaging in not-Catholic activities." Shanna grimaces. "The school board did not like that. The two girls were expelled, and everybody else has a stupid curfew."

They pull up in front of St. Mary's School with two minutes left to spare. A couple girls are still arriving from the warehouse; a large girl with waves of amber hair waves frantically at them from the front entrance.

"There's my friend, Lily," Shanna says, turning to Cameron. "Thank you so much! You don't know how much I appreciate this ride." She leans forward and gives him another hug, but this time Cameron sees it coming and can actually return the hug before she pulls away. The friendly action seems like it's just something she does all the time. She quickly hops out of the car. "See you Saturday! I hope you get the solo." And with that, she's off.

Cameron just sits there in thought for a moment, recalling that sly look she gave him minutes earlier. And true, he was acting pretty courteous around her, but only because she seemed like a person who would really appreciate those sorts of gestures.

And Blaine's wink. He seriously couldn't mean what Cameron thinks he meant. Does Blaine really think he would get over Marissa that fast?

Cameron still wants the girl he loved a long time ago, but if she denied him three times when he approached her, then it's likely she won't return to him until it's on her own terms. So that leaves Cameron waiting. Waiting for Marissa, allowing her to take her time and reevaluation where she is in life and what she wants to do with it. Waiting for his ex-girlfriend of a year and a half to date another guy, and meanwhile Cameron's just going to wait in the background listlessly, doing nothing until she comes back (if ever at all).

Cameron slumps forward, his forehead hitting the steering wheel. He can't do this. He can't wait forever. He's been waiting long enough and Marissa didn't respond the way he intended.

"You better belt it to Jesus, boy!" screams Shanna's voice from a window. Her silhouette waves from a window on the third floor, second from the corner. Cameron notes her room.

With his tumultuous thoughts bouncing around in his head, Cameron pulls out of the parking lot and quickly drives back to Dalton.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_So I'm off to California on a family vacation! This probably will affect updates for the next three weeks. Sorry, but think about it: writing this story... or DISNEYLAND? _

_About Pitbull... I watched an "Eclipse" parody by the Hillywood Show, which had a funky remix of "Give Me Everything." First time I heard it. And hey, I desperately needed something for Mario to sing, because I don't have a clue what his music tastes are and I wanted to post this before I left for vacation. He has a beautiful voice though._

_More TGP2 characters join the scene! I don't have time for individual replies - gotta pack - so I'll just PM you guys when I get the time. Though I shall compensate with SPOILERS - which TGP characters are where! Warning: plans may change, but I've already got pretty concrete stories planned out for characters already there. An asterisk next to a name means that the person is not in show choir (yet. Or they'll never be. You'll see.)_

_**Dalton**: Cameron, Alex, _Mario_  
><em>_**St. Mary's**: Emily*, Ellis*, _Shanna*, Lily Mae_*, _ *, _ *  
><em>_**McKinley**: Damian, Hannah, Marissa*, Matheus, _Dani*, Michael*, Nellie* (does Running Start at Carmel Community College)_  
><em>_**Carmel**: Bryce, Lindsay, Samuel*, McKynleigh, _Abraham, Aylin, Blake, Charlie*, _, _ *_  
><em>


	47. New Connections IV

"Thanks for walking me home!" Hannah cries happily as she bounces into her house, leaving Matheus on a scooter and Sam on his bike outside on the street. Though Matheus makes an effort to go a bit faster, Sam still pedals so slowly that he's having trouble balancing on his bicycle.

"So… how's your semester been so far?" Sam asks awkwardly. Weird, how they were pretty good friends for a whole week and a half before Sam rocketed up in popularity. It feels like he doesn't know Matheus at all, even though the little guy has offered him the hand of friendship multiple times.

Matheus groans. "High school has so much more homework than junior high! But it's pretty cool." He grins up at Sam. "It's like… well, you know, meeting a bunch of new people all at once. And some of them are pretty cool. It's like a bunch of new ideas crashing together, and I feel like, by the end of high school, I'm going to be a different person. By the time I leave in four years, I'm going to carry a bit of every friend I've ever had with me. I'm going to be a better me."

Sam's eyebrows rise. A bit of every friend… "Wow. That's pretty deep."

"Whatever," Matheus pouts. "What was your old boarding school like?"

"No girls," Sam says immediately. "The only girls I talked to aside from teachers for maybe three years were my mom, my little sister, and our neighbor. She was a pretty old hag who kept losing her teeth in her garden. But she grew amazingly sweet tomatoes."

"No wonder you were so floored by Quinn," Matheus says wonderingly.

Great, like he really needs reminding of how much of a crush he had on Quinn, and how much she crushed him afterwards. His first relationship, the girl he fell so hard for, he bought her a promise ring and promised he'd never push her for anything. He'd just be there for her.

Well look how that turned out.

Aware that he probably hit a pressure point, Matheus quickly changes subjects. "Was there a Glee club at the boarding school?"

"Not a show choir, really. More like an all-boys' choir." Sam shakes his head, trying to dispel memories, but they only surge through stronger.

"So you were probably at the top, right?" Matheus questions. "You've got a pretty awesome voice—even Mr. Schue thinks so, if he offered you a Sectionals solo."

Sam shakes his head again. "Nah… I actually started at the bottom. …It was a while before I got noticed, but when I did, I rose up through the ranks pretty fast."

He doesn't mention that it wasn't necessarily his talent that got him up. Sure, he had a promising voice—but it wasn't trained enough yet. It was the lead boy who'd taken a liking to him and taken him under his wing who'd helped Sam the most. He helped Sam train his voice, but he also covered all the other bases: taught him impressions, introduced him to all the video games and movies he'd missed out on because his both his parents were pretty busy working and never showed him the classics like Star Wars or Pokemon. That lead boy became Sam's best friend for the next two and a half years.

Their close friendship—their relationship—may have ended on a bad note due to their raging hormones and Sam's cold feet when the school's minister found out, but Sam wouldn't have traded the time he'd spent with Blake for anything in the world.

So he might be feeling that same liking towards Matheus right now. And maybe even Michael. After all, Sam knows guys a lot better than he knows girls.

Sam doesn't really know what he feels right now. He'd thought Quinn was his world before, but now that she's cut him out of her life completely for _her_ first love, Finn, Sam's not sure what he feels anymore. All he can really do for now is build his relationship with both and see where it leads him.

A promise ring. He won't push them; he won't invest any emotion. He won't put his heart in danger of being absolutely crushed again. He'll just wait and if either opens up, he'll let them know and see where it goes.

That's the promise that Sam makes to himself as they arrive at his house. Spontaneously, he pulls Matheus into a side hug. "Thanks for walking me home, man."

Matheus looks slightly surprised but pleased. "Yeah, no problem. See you in math tomorrow?"

Sam grins. "See you later."

It's a promise.

* * *

><p>Damian is tons more comfortable with Dani driving, even if she does go unbearably slow.<p>

They're inching down the pavement and even Lord Tubbington growls impatiently from his position squashed between Brittany and Damian. Dani's crumpled bike wouldn't fit in the trunk, so she crammed in into the passenger seat and banished Damian to the back.

"You passed my house!" Brittany yells, pointing for emphasis.

Damian glances outside into darkness. The kitchen window shines warm incandescent light, and just the sight of the pink wallpaper visible through the window brings regrettable memories to his mind.

Dani keeps driving. "I'm sending myself home first," she says firmly, still dripping mud onto the leather seats. "I really, really need to change."

They inch onto the next block, and Damian sighs in relief as Brittany's house vanishes from view.

Until he remembers that his mom is inside that house. With Brittany's dad.

He's seen Brittany's dad once. He almost walked in on them while Damian was _helping_ Brittany with her homework in her bedroom. Damian's first impression was that the guy looked a BA military man, very much unlike the young, hotheaded boyfriends his mother usually pursued. It also made Damian afraid for his life, caught red-handed—but it soon became apparent whom Brittany inherited her brains from. (Or lack of brains.)

Of all the people his mom chose to finally settle down with, why does it have to be Brittany's? And why now, just a week after he broke up with her and days before Sectionals, when he's supposed to be bursting with happy energy? Just the thoughts of having to hear to his mom perform her boyfriend initiation ritual throughout the night while sleeping in a foreign room painted with that awful pink color makes Damian want to ditch everything and run for his life.

He wants to go home. Back to Ireland. Stay at his father's house. Sleep over at Troy and Ashley's.

Or go to Lindsay's, he thinks wildly. Lindsay's parents would understand; they seem like really cool, sympathetic people. He could sleep over at Lindsay's until he's finally able to calm down and think about what to do next.

But he can't call her here, right in front of Brittany and Dani and Lord Tubbington. And Damian doesn't even want to set a foot inside Brittany's house, with its happy ornaments and stuffed unicorns and pink wallpaper bleeding memories of a rash decision he made while crushed over Lindsay's rejection. A decision he can never, ever take back, a valuable treasure that he gave to a girl who doesn't value it at all.

All he feels at Brittany's house is regret. Shame, guilt, regret. He can't go back. He can't live there until he stops panicking, settles down, and thinks.

But he can't. He has to talk to somebody right now or he's going to explode.

This must be what Cameron feels like. Maybe not the same situation, but the same feelings: unable to keep a lid on the boiling emotions inside of him.

Call Lindsay. Call Cameron. Damian just needs to talk to somebody in privacy.

He considers going to the house he's stayed in for the past couple months; he has the keys to the front door, and he's spent plenty of time alone there. But now he doesn't want to be alone. He wants to be in privacy but not alone.

Dani's voice cuts into his rattled thoughts. "Well, we're here," she announces, parking Brittany's white buggy next to a small cookie cutter house that looks exactly like every other house on the block, complete with the white picket fences and enthusiastic dog bouncing next to the gate. "I'd say thanks for the ride, but I wouldn't have needed it if you hadn't tried to run me over in the first place." Dani leans in through the passenger side and tugs her mangled bike out.

Desperately, Damian makes a split second decision and hops out of the car after the bike. "See you later, Brittany," he shouts, grabbing Dani's hand before she gets away. "Please help me," he leans towards the girl, almost begging. "I can't go live with her."

Dani stops, her mouth hanging open. "And what do you want me to do?" she hisses quietly, as Brittany buckles Lord Tubbington into the passenger seat. "Can't you just get a ride home from her?"

"My mom's moving into her house and I can't do that. I can't listen to what my mom's planning for tonight and I can't sleep over at Brittany's house, not when I broke up with her last week. Not now," Damian says, staring at the ground. He looks back up into her face, trying to convey his desperation even though it's likely that she can't see his face in the darkness of 10:30pm.

Strangely, though, Dani seems to understand. "Wow, that's serious," the girl murmurs.

"Damian?" Brittany pipes up. "You'll have to sit in the back; Lord Tubbington's got shotgun." She approaches him slowly, grasping his other hand. "I want a good snuggle tonight."

Dani suddenly pulls him away. "Sorry, Brittany," the other girl says gently. "But after you, uh, hit Lord Tubbington's bike and launched me into the lake, um, well, I got pretty wet. And so did Damian when he came to pull me out."

Brittany just smiles cluelessly. "Damian gets wet all the—"

Dani cuts her off with a loud, "We have to go inside and change clothes," before pulling Damian away hurriedly. "He'll see you at school tomorrow!"

Brittany accepts this without comment, waving goodbye rather disappointedly.

"Thank you so much," Damian says appreciatively. "I couldn't… I don't think I could have… I need to…"

"Let's put your clothes through the wash first," Dani says, opening the yard's gate and keeping the exuberant black lab from jumping out. "Down, Pepper! Sit, girl! You can borrow some of my clothes in the meanwhile."

Damian inwardly balks. Her clothes? What? But then the happy dog mobs him and he spends the next minute rubbing the dog's belly as Dani unlocks the front door. "Mom!" she yells. "A friend's staying the night. Can I let Pepper back in?" She turns around and motions. "Well, com'on in."

The dog responds first, quickly rolling upright and darting straight to Dani. "You don't mind sleeping on the couch, do you?" she asks, rubbing the Labrador on the head. "Pepper might even sleep with you."

Damian nods and steps inside the house. "Thanks."

* * *

><p>In just an hour, Sunshine's comfortable enough to be thrown by Blake and Aylin into Abraham's arms. Nellie took off half an hour ago, citing that she had to cover a super-early morning shift the next day, and Sunshine had hugged her new friend goodbye.<p>

Sunshine still feels unnerved by the sensation of falling from a dizzying height, but she trusts her three other Vocal Adrenaline buddies to safely perform the feat.

"There you go!" whoops Abraham as he whirls in circles excitedly, Sunshine still in his arms. She squeals and slings her arms around her neck, afraid that she might slide off or that he might trip over a box of clothes. She'd rather land on him that the hard floor, after all. "You're off to become a true Vocal Adrenaline acrobat."

"Are you up for some vocals now?" Aylin asks. "Do you know what you're going to sing? We can probably harmonize on the spot, but it'd be helpful to know what the song is ahead of time."

Sunshine looks around at her three friends, trying to think of something that would involve all of them. After all, that's when she had the most fun; even Beyonce's _Love on Top _against Vocal Adrenaline's invasion had been the most fun she'd ever had in the New Directions, because she'd had all her friends dancing right along with her. An idea rises into her head, and she faces Abraham shyly. "What do you feel about singing a duet?"

Abraham's face breaks into a huge smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

><p>"Honey?" McKynleigh's mom calls when McKynleigh enters her house from the garage door. "Did you meet Maxfield?"<p>

McKynleigh freezes up completely and her body goes numb. Max? Here? At her house? "What?" she finally croaks. "He was here?"

McKynleigh's mother emerges from the living room, her reading glasses pushed up into her frizzy flyaway hair. "You didn't catch him?" she says disappointedly. "To think he came all the way from Kentucky to miss you by an inch! The minute I saw him on the front step, I almost cried." She wipes a fake tear from her cheek. "I told him you were at practice. Are you sure you didn't see him at Carmel High?"

McKynleigh barely hides her shock by hiding it behind a fake show face of distress. "What? No, I didn't. I…" Actually, she had seen him. He'd seen her too (and Lindsay jokingly revealing herself, but that doesn't matter). It's just that both she and Lindsay had panicked at the same time, and without thinking, McKynleigh had fled the scene in a hurry.

Leaving Max behind. After he'd come all the way… "How'd he get here?" McKynleigh asks, trying to stave off her gnawing guilt.

"Hitchhiked, apparently. The nerve of that boy! I can't believe you didn't tell him we were in Ohio! He only found out through a show choir advertisement picture online." Her mother looks at McKynleigh sharply. "You two were so close before we moved. I was sure you were keeping contact."

"We were," McKynleigh lies, her mind buzzing numbly. She can't think. Max drove all the way from Kentucky just to see her? Why?

Well of course she knows the answer. She just doesn't want to admit it to herself.

Her mom's gaze sharpens. "Yet you somehow forgot to mention where we were."

"You know Max," she says lightly, treading on the eggshells of her heart. "He forgets so easily."

McKynleigh's mother finally notices McKynleigh's unease and her entire expression changes as she realizes something's wrong, but she doesn't press the issue. She looks at McKynleigh one last time, obviously very curious, before going back to the living room. "Well, I told the boy he could stay in the guest room downstairs…"

McKynleigh's entire body freezes again, and she almost collapses against the hallway wall. "Oh my gawd, Mom!"

"Miki, honey, you two were inseparable before we moved! I thought you'd be happy!"

"That was two years ago, Mom!" McKynleigh cries out in exasperation. Max, staying here, after she left him without a word? All the demons she's kept hidden in the closet are going to mob her tonight. And she might not make it out alive. "Oh my god, Mom... oh my god…"

Her mother looks at her and says gently, "Do you want to talk—"

"No," McKynleigh snaps immediately. "No. I'm going to my room. Tell Max… tell him I'm really tired. Mom, Sectionals are next week! I've got to focus on choreography and memorizing lyrics and… Mom, I can't handle this!"

"Alright, honey. I'll see if he can stay with one of my friends," her mother says quietly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know…"

McKynleigh doesn't answer; she just stumbles into her room, slams the door, drops her backpack on the floor, and falls face first into bed. She cannot handle this right now. Not Maxfield, the person she's known since birth. The boy she'd climbed trees and built secret hideouts and swam in the creek with in their childhood. The one who taught her guitar, and the one she'd encouraged to sing. The guy she'd dated for five years.

The boy who'd dropped onto one knee two years ago.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_POINT FOR EMPHASIS._

_The plot thickens. For multiple characters. I had trouble deciding between Blake and Sebastian and finally decided I'd take Blake down that route, since Sebastian already has a plot with Klaine. If Dani and Damian feels forced... yeah. And yay, McKynleigh finally gets a plot of her own!_

_Note: I'm still on family vacation, which means I'm strapped for time. all the time. I can barely find time to hunch over my computer for a couple hours and pound out a few pages before my mom's complaining that I spent too much time on the internetz and not enough time socializing with people we haven't seen in years. Whoops. _

_The thing is, I have so much planned in my mind and so little time to actually convert it to Microsoft Word format. And I need to start prepping for school, take an entrance exam, I'm running out of steam, I'm running out of time, I need to move, excuse, excuse, EXCUSES. So much for weekly updates. Sorry! Don't hate me please._

_On an unrelated note, I'm thinking about starting another story: a superpowered Glee-TGP1-TGP2 week starting out pretty normal, transitioning into a wild party, and ending in a Battle Royale within the school. Should I embark on this crazy new adventure (with random/crack pairings, and com'on, SUPERPOWERS) or focus my efforts on updating this monster of a story?_


	48. New Connections V

"Here, you can wear some of my stuff," Dani says, popping out of a hallway with her arms full of clothes. Damian briefly panics—a girl's clothing?—but then Dani dumps her load on the living room floor. Loose clothing: basketball shorts, hoodies, regular T-shirts, sweats. Nothing about them is geared towards women's sizes; they're all asexual pieces of clothing.

Dani's black lab, Pepper, immediately shoves her nose into the heap, snuffling around. "No, Pepper!" Dani yelps, pulling the dog back. "Go mind your own business!" The dog yips and bounces away.

Damian picks up the articles of clothing that Pepper investigated. "Thanks," he says numbly, his mind still whirling. There's no way he can stay at a complete stranger's house for more than a night. But even this rude alternative is infinitely better than staying with his mother at her boyfriend's house during their initial stages of their relationship. He'll give them maybe a week to cool off before he even considers moving in.

And then again, there's Brittany. His face contorts in a grimace as he locks himself in the bathroom and sheds his muddy sweats. The girl's got two completely different personalities: in public and in bed. And the privacy of Brittany's own house, where they jumped into heated interactions in the kitchen, on the living room couch, even in the garage—there's no place in that area of residence that doesn't remind Damian of an experience he'd committed, even initiated, all too willingly then but regrets now.

Maybe Damian could call Matheus and ask for a place to stay. Despite being in the same friend group, though, he doesn't quite connect with the guy. Maybe Mike—apparently he dated Brittany last year before committing to Tina, so he'd identify better.

Housing aside, though, Damian has a greater need: he has to talk to somebody and let all his frothing emotions pour out, or it's going to burn him from the inside out.

He immediately thinks of Lindsay, then decides against it; calling his current girlfriend about the possibility of permanently living at his ex's house doesn't seem like all too wise of a decision right now.

Damian scrolls through his phone's address book and spots Cameron's number on the list almost immediately. Despite only meeting him in person twice, Damian felt like he'd really connected with the nerdy guy.

Which of his male friends has had the most trouble with relationships? Which one would identify the most about girl problems?

Spontaneously, Damian clicks the call button.

* * *

><p>"Samuel? Help me!"<p>

The entrance hall echoes with awkward bumps and clunks, and Samuel willingly leaves his math homework on the desk underneath his bunk bed to run towards the front door landing. His mom is trying to heave a huge suitcase up the stairs, but before he can assist her, the owner of the piece of luggage slips into the door with a bulging duffel bag.

"Thank you, ma'am," the guy says, tipping his straw cowboy hat while taking the baggage from her and easily lifting with one hand. "But you didn't have to do that."

Samuel steps aside as the blonde hunk makes his way up the stairs, finally depositing both pieces of luggage in the living room. "Thank you for your kindness," the cowboy says, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. "I really appreciate it."

Samuel's mind finally catches up, and he slams the mouth that he didn't know was hanging open shut. "Mom, what's going on?"

"Oh right," his mother says, still a bit flustered. She cooks when stressed and is currently coated in a fine layer of flour. "McKynleigh's mother called. They unfortunately can't house this young man here—"

The guy extends a hand. "I'm Maxfield," he says. "Max is fine."

Samuel shakes it. "Samuel."

"—so we'll just let Max sleep in the living room until we can, erm, clean the guest room," Samuel's mother finishes. "It should only take, uh, maybe two days?"

The single guest room downstairs is currently decked out as the practice room for Samuel's band, and a storage room for other things. Hurriedly, Samuel cuts in, "Uh, actually, Mom, why doesn't he room with me?" Both people stare at him in surprise, and he explains, "Our band has practiced in that room for years, you know? And I don't mind a roommate. The guys crash in my room all the time."

"That would work," Samuel's mother says thoughtfully. "We could finally restore your bunk bed to its original use…"

…that would mean that Samuel has to reshuffle his room and put his workstation somewhere else, but Samuel really cannot have his mother riffling through and moving the band materials downstairs. There are some, uh, things she shouldn't find down there. "Yeah, it could fit," Samuel says, grabbing one of Maxfield's suitcase. Gosh it's heavy—what is he keeping in there, rocks? "I'll make things fit. No problem, Mom, you go back to making cakes."

"Meatloaf," his mom corrects, heading towards the kitchen but looking back one more time. "Are you sure we couldn't move the band into the recreation room?"

Less hiding places. "No, mom. We like the room." Samuel heaves the baggage down the hall towards his bedroom.

"Thanks," Maxfield says as they enter Samuel's mess of a room. Soccer team posters cover the walls, as well as blown up pictures of him and Lindsay's brothers and the occasional shot of a younger Lindsay sneaking in a photobomb. Clothes cover every inch of the carpeted floor. For once in his life, Samuel feels just a little bit self-conscious about the mess of his room, but Maxfield surveys this all with no judgment. Instead, he slumps against the wall and slides to the ground in an apparently exhausted state. "Whew, that was a journey," he drawls in a noticeable Southern accent.

Samuel starts moving stuff from underneath his bed. "Here, help me move my desk," he grunts. Maxfield jumps to his feet, and they start vacating the space underneath the top bunk of Samuel's bed. "So how do you know McKynleigh?" Samuel says.

Maxfield looks at him in slight confusion. "She's my fiancée."

* * *

><p>The curtains are drawn and the lights are off, but the dim glow of a computer screen hints that Michael's still awake.<p>

Nellie stares at the fluorescence through the curtains of her neighbor's window for half a second longer before unlocking her front door. On the drive home, she'd realized that she had calculus homework due tomorrow. Michael's always eager to help her during the mandatory English class she has to take at McKinley High; Nellie thinks that her math-genius neighbor wouldn't mind answering any questions.

As Nellie pounds up the stairs, she notices that she has two texts from Charlie.

_Good night, babe. I love you._

_P.S. I want to smell your coffee hair :)_

Nellie groans, unwinding the hair tie from around her ponytail, grabbing a strand of hair, and taking a huge sniff. It does _not_ smell like coffee.

With that decision, she sprawls onto her bed and cracks open the calculus book.

Ugh. Curves and asymptotes and triple derivatives. Is there really any point to calculus I, other than being able to go onto calculus II? It's not like she even needs it; it's just a resume filler.

About ten minutes in, she just wants to scribble down random curves and call it good. She plays with her phone, contemplating whether to call Michael. It's almost 11. At this point, she's only going to get five hours of sleep; she really needs to finish this as quickly as possible.

Spontaneously, Nellie clicks the call button.

* * *

><p>Blaine can't stop grinning. Whether the Warblers' solo goes to Mario, Alex, or Cameron—it doesn't matter. They're all incredible singers in three different genres: belting ballads for Alex, catchy pop for Mario, and soulful rock for Cameron. No matter which route they take, Blaine knows they'll rock at Sectionals.<p>

Even though Sectionals is against the Kurt and the New Directions. His cheerful attitude falls just a little at the thought of Kurt—so vulnerable yet strong, stronger than Blaine ever was for standing up to Karofsky every day and never backing down and running away. It's something that Blaine really admires in the guy: the steely strength that he shows under pressure.

It hurts Blaine a little that he and the Warblers are a threat to Kurt's dream of show choir success.

That all changes the moment he returns from the warehouse.

The moving truck parked in front of Dalton Academy doesn't catch his attention; as a boarding school, people move into the dorms all the time. The chatter of boys gossiping about the newcomer arriving unusually late—in the middle of term—doesn't faze him.

It's only the sight of Kurt Hummel talking to the receptionist in the front lobby that makes Blaine stop dead.

"Kurt?"

The boy whirls around, his face melting with relief as he spots the one contact he has in this strange environment. "Blaine! My god I am glad to see you! I didn't—"

Blaine hugs the taller boy fiercely. "Kurt! I… I thought you weren't transferring till next week!"

Kurt steps back. "I couldn't wait," he says breathlessly. "I…" For once, the spitfire responses that Kurt usually churns out fail to make an appearance. Kurt's expression wilts slightly. "I just couldn't."

Blaine puts a comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Oh Kurt… Never mind that. You've still shown so much courage."

A forced smile makes its way onto Kurt's face. "Whatever. So where's Windsor House?"

* * *

><p>Samuel drops his end of the desk in shock. Unfortunately, one table leg lands on his bare foot, so Samuel spends the next couple minutes hopping around the room and swearing loudly.<p>

So he doesn't know McKynleigh that well; it's more like they have a mutual friend in Lindsay. But _fiancée? _ McKynleigh never, ever told anybody about that. She'd moved to Carmel two years ago at the beginning of the school year and struck up an instant relationship with Bryce that lasted a whole five weeks before they settled as friends. She'd jumped into a million activities like the school newspaper and photography and show choir, bringing her bright Southern cheer but generally avoiding talking about her past.

He dimly hears Maxfield's voice asking, "Are you okay?"

Samuel plops down into the nearest chair and inspects his foot. He's had worse. "Sorry man," he says. "Just a little… surprised. I didn't know."

Maxfield's face sort of crumples, but he mumbles anyways, "What?"

Samuel hesitates, but finally decides to spit the ugly truth out. He's not going to let another horrible Damsay-style miscommunication happen again. He leans forward onto his knees and holds eye contact with the blonde. "McKynleigh never told anybody about you," he says plainly. "She moved her two years ago and never told anybody any specifics about her past."

Maxfield falls into stunned silence.

Samuel adds helpfully, "She's not seeing anybody. Not since she got here." Excluding Bryce, of course. Lindsay's had enough drama of her own for both McKynleigh and Samuel to handle.

Maxfield sticks up the ring finger of his left hand; for a brief instance, Samuel thinks the guy's flipping him off. "You see this ring?"

Samuel nods once. It's a simple silver ring; nothing incredibly outstanding or special about it. Engagement ring? Though only women wear engagement rings…

"It's a promise ring," Maxfield explains, holding his left hand over his heart. "It's my oath to McKynleigh: that I am willing to commit the rest of my life to her, and that I will always, always be there for her."

Samuel tries to recall if McKynleigh wears a similar simple silver ring. He can't remember ever seeing one on her hand. "So… how long were you two dating?" Damian said a guy in his show choir group gave a promise ring to one of the most popular girls in the school. That relationship lasted a whole three months.

"Well… our parents have known each other since college, and we grew up as neighbors." Maxfield starts constructing the bottom bunk bed with the spare parts that Samuel's stored in a bag in the corner of the room. "It's just… it's always been that way. How we felt about each other just sort of evolved over the years, you know? We were always part of the same family, and then some more."

McKynleigh's lived another life in another state and she never told anybody about it? Samuel makes a mental note to talk to his friend about this.

"I don't know what I did to make her run away," Maxfield says softly, pausing in his work. "But I've hitchhiked across the country for her… and I know it's been two years since she disappeared, but I still love her."

* * *

><p>Cameron's heaving a chest of drawers out of the moving truck and into Windsor House when the phone in his pocket vibrates. Unfortunately, his hands are very literally full.<p>

"What are you carrying in here?" Nick groans on his side. "Rocks?"

"Have you not seen what I'm wearing?" Kurt says from his room down the hallway. "I _am_ the height of fashion."

"News flash," Jeff says cheerily from the other side of the piece of furniture. "We're wearing uniforms."

"Not off grounds," Kurt replies haughtily. "And I intend to fully utilize that time."

"Less talking, more moving," Cameron huffs, stepping around an uneven floorboard. "And watch out for the—"

Of course, Jeff, the clumsiest Warbler ever, trips over the board and pitches himself straight into chest of drawers. Unprepared for the sudden shift in weight, Nick falls straight on his butt, shunting all the weight to Cameron. He collapses and the furniture follows him, threatening to crush his chest.

"Whoa there," grunts a familiar voice, right before bare feet land on either side of his head and muscled arms divert the chest away from Cameron's torso. The massive wooden wardrobe slams into the wall, whereupon multiple Warblers swarm over to it and lift it. "Never give Jeff objects of possible mass destruction."

Cameron rolls onto his hands and knees. "Thanks," he gasps, looking up into the face of Sebastian. Apparently he's just finished a shower—his hair is spiky wet and all he's wearing is a pair of basketball shorts. He's got a towel slung around his neck, barely hiding his bare chest.

"Put a shirt on, man," Jeff growls teasingly, picking himself off the ground. "Nobody wants to see that."

Sebastian winks at somebody; Cameron has a good guess at whom. Sure enough, Blaine is standing at the end of the hall, with a facial expression of relief—but even from his position, Cameron can see the blush creeping up Blaine's neck to his face. "Just helping out with an emergency," Sebastian grins. "And you," he says, turning to Kurt and offering his hand. "You're our new suitemate, right? I'm Sebastian, choreographer for the Warblers."

Kurt's eyes flicker up from Sebastian's chest to his face. "Kurt," he says firmly, shaking Sebastian's hand and trying to put some confident strength into it—but to no avail; Sebastian just has a strong handshake that doesn't hurt but doesn't relax for a moment either. "Former competition to the Warblers, now wanting to join your ranks."

"Great," Sebastian grins. There's something hiding underneath the grin though—a fierce drive and determination. Sebastian never compromises on anything, whether it's with group choreography, academic success, or interpersonal relationships. "The suite's entertainment room is a great place for boot camp."

Cameron purses his lips. If Kurt wants to be in the Warblers for Sectionals, his next four days are going to be quite a bumpy ride.

* * *

><p>Michael doesn't pick up. It's too late and Nellie's never going to finish the homework at this rate. Oh well, another small homework assignment flunked. She needs her sleep more. Next time, she'll make sure to look at the assignment right away and ask Michael during English.<p>

That's what she keeps telling herself, at least. She can't help it that her insides get all nervous-queasy whenever she approaches him, or that they flip inside out if he leans over her shoulder to inspect her textbook.

She needs to learn to contain it, though. She's with Charlie. She's been with Charlie for three years. You don't just throw away three years of love for a bubbly feeling you get for three minutes around another guy.

Even if Charlie's increasing absences and failures to contact her immediately leave her feeling disappointed and alone sometimes.

He has his excuses and she has hers.

* * *

><p>After a second missed call, Damian gives up. He really doesn't know Cameron that well and it'd be a little awkward to try and call him another time.<p>

And really, what would he really say to Cameron? The guy lives in another city! Maybe it he'd better contact one of the Glee guys, like Matheus or Mike. Apparently Mike shared a close friendship with Brittany last year; he'd understand.

Damian realizes that he's been in the bathroom for a little longer than usual—a stranger's bathroom, nonetheless. First impressions are important, and a long bathroom trip is definitely not a good impression.

Damian tugs on Dani's basketball shorts. Belatedly, he realizes that the shirt he picked up is a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shirt. Hm.

He emerges from the bathroom seconds later; Dani's tossed a blanket on the couch. "So…" Dani says when he pauses in the entrance to the living room. She smiles a little bit at her shirt. "Brittany troubles?"

Damian purses his lips. "Yes," he admits curtly.

Dani sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to her. "Do you want to talk about it? Not to sound rude," she adds hurriedly, "But you've heard that Brittany's made out with everybody in the school, right?"

"What?"

"I'm guessing you're a transfer student," Dani says, smiling. "Your accent sort of gives it away."

Damian smiles back and seats himself on the couch next to her. "Really."

"Yeah, I'm serious. Anyways, rumor has it she's even made out with the janitor. Looks like a hobo in suspenders with the salt-and-pepper beard? Yeah, that guy." Dani's face contorts in slight revulsion.

"So…" Damian eyes her dubiously. "Have you…?"

Dani nods, a small grin slipping onto her face. "Brittany… she actually thought I was a boy at first."

Damian mentally sighs in relief. So she is a girl. "Oh. Surprisingly."

Dani's looking up at him playfully. "And you didn't have your doubts at first?"

He feels a small blush rise in his cheeks. "Oh, erm… no. Not really. I… I knew you of the female gender from the very start," he finishes in exaggerated swaggering confidence.

"Right," Dani laughs, socking him gently on the shoulder. She then swells her chest in fake pride. "Well, I think I was her first girl."

Damian gives her the side-eye. "What about Santana?"

"Who knows about Santana?" Dani shrugs. "Sure, they're pretty much conjoined twins, but Santana was knocking up boys all the time by then, and Brittany was only following her example. I'm saying though, I think I was the one who broadened her horizons—got her to consider girls on equal standing as boys."

"Did… did you…" He leaves the sentence hanging, hoping that Dani will answer it before he has to complete the awkward sentence.

Apparently not, though. She keeps waiting, looking at him expectantly. "Did I what?"

"Did you… are you really going to make me say it?"

Dani's poker face is flawless: she really innocently appears as if she has no idea what he's talking about.

"Did you sleep with her?" Damian mumbles.

"Nah."

"Oh." So she can't really relate to what he—

"But we did plenty of snuggling and kissing," Dani finishes, grinning gleefully at Damian's burning red face. "And to this day I still believe that Brittany is the best kisser. Ever."

"She has no intimacy," Damian immediately retorts.

Dani looks startled; Damian's a bit startled himself. "Wha?" Dani asks.

Damian looks at his hands. "She… um, well… with Brittany, it's all heat and need and passion… but there's no connection. It's just… sex." He doesn't look up. He feels a little vulnerable and a little weirded out by opening himself up to a relative stranger. Yeah, Dani's kind enough to open up her house to a desperate teenager, and that mercy in itself is enough to give Dani all ten brownie points. But truthfully, he's only known her for an hour, and to spill out his guts so soon…

"I gotcha," Dani says softly. "I know what you mean." A pause. "Is there someone else?"

Oh. He probably should have mentioned her earlier. "I've got a girlfriend."

"Lucky girl," Dani compliments. "So why go to Brittany's house if you're already taken?"

Damian heaves a sigh. "My mom's dating her dad. And not just another fling—it's the type of dating that involves moving in."

"Oh. Well that's a problem. Well, I know how to fix half the problem."

Damian almost levels her with a flat glare; there's no way she can just "fix" problems. Dani seems to catch his drift, though, because she quickly elaborates, "I can get Brittany off your back. The housing situation… I don't know, if you were really desperate, you could go around couch-surfing until you find a more permanent place to stay. But with Brittany, just distract her with something else."

"Distract her?"

"Set her up a long-term boyfriend."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Have you ever written a story with multiple friends? One person starts out with a paragraph and passes to the next person, who adds a second paragraph or two, and so a story is built by multiple people. You try to make it as continuous as possible, but with so many different writers, of course you'll get crazy mood swings. In my case, we started out with a barmaid and her faithful gnome barely escaping a treeful of Keebler elves (you know, the ones who make the cookies), and then we hit a darker-and-edgier friend who wrote out the gnome Dobby-style, and then ended up with the barmaid falling into a fever dream and unintentionally starting a Twilight fangirl battle to end all battles... and that's sort of where it ended. Anyways, it was a crazy and highly amusing story in all, with over 12 writers all rotating through and crafting a unique interactive fiction together._

_So I found out that one of my favorite writers, **Scribbler**, has started a site for this very purpose: to create interfics. And I'm thinking it would be a marvelous way to interact with all of you - to ascend past simple reviews and replies to actually writing a story together. If this interests you, head over to __interfics. proboards. com and check it out. A Glee Board hasn't been put up yet (all of the boards are fandoms she's interested in), but I've put in a request for Glee._

_Okay, back to this story: whew. It feels like this one night took FOREVER to finish. Now I can finally get on to the next day - i.e. Giselle/Sunshine sing-off. _

_So **Charlotte Pecot, **you got me. After seeing Dani and Nellie's "We Found Love", I sort of melted. Though keyword: sort of._

_Can anybody PM me where I can watch Romanticality online? TV Links and Sidereel have failed me :(_


	49. Matchmaking I

_A/N: GLEE/TGP1/TGP2 CRACK PAIRING POLL IS UP (on my profile). See Author's Rant for more details._

_I'm posting this chapter a bit early because the school term is coming up fast and I need to start preparing. I swear, I'll miss writing this as much as you miss reading it, but I've got to prioritize, and professional school comes first (OMG I'M SO OLD). Updates every 1.5 weeks, hopefully._

**Featured songs**:  
>"Pyramid" by Charice ft. Iyaz<br>"Where Have You Been" by Rihanna

* * *

><p>Even though, every once in a while, Lord Tubbington embraces the wild animal within him and runs off into the night to frolic with the female kitties out there, Brittany still has her worries.<p>

So when Damian didn't come home last night (and her dad's bedroom door had the warning tie hooked around the doorknob, so she couldn't ask him), Brittany had no idea what to do. She went to bed alone, unable to stop missing a warm body next to her, unable to pull back her wandering mind, unable to wonder what exactly he was doing out in the dark night.

Damian wasn't there when she woke up. He hadn't been there for the past five days, but Brittany's still waiting for him to come back and hold her again. Yet she can't stop that feeling of sadness that's sitting in her gut: that they're done.

The end of their relationship is something Brittany's totally okay with. She knows that she switches boyfriends about once a week; and in the breaks between relationships, it's open season. So if Damian's the one who wants to end their relationship, then Brittany's perfectly okay.

The thing she's not okay with is that he simply hasn't told her that they're over. He hasn't told her anything. He doesn't even look at her. So if they're still bed buddies, if they're still together, then why is he avoiding her?

When Brittany breaks things off with a guy, she makes it obvious and she does it before she goes chasing down another man. Sure, it might break their heart, but not as badly as keeping them hooked and dragging them along for the ride while chasing down another.

Is that what Damian's doing to her now? Did he forget to unhook her?

The front door opens as Santana lets herself in. "You done with breakfast, Britt?" she calls, shutting the door.

"I don't want to be the fish," she says forlornly.

Santana pauses in the entranceway to the kitchen, a look of blank confusion on her face. She shakes it off as soon as she spots Brittany's expression, though, rests her hands on the blonde's back, and leans forward, her lips right next to Brittany's ear. The Latina's hot breath trickles down past the lobe and along the slender curve of her jaw, tickling her sweet spot there. Brittany giggles. Santana whispers, "What's the hold up, Britt-Britt?"

Brittany leans into the warmth of Santana's body. It feels good. That's what she was missing last night.

But seconds later, Santana pulls away, striding to the fridge. "Meat… meat… meat… why can't there just be a damn apple in here for once?" Frustrated, the Latina slams the fridge door shut and opens the adjacent cupboard. "I guess Coach's protein and sand milkshake's going to have to do."

"Have you seen Damian?" Brittany blurts out.

Santana doesn't stop pouring bright pink powder into the blender. "The gay Irish exchange?"

Brittany's brow wrinkles in confusion. "I slept with him."

"And you made out with Kurt last year when he turned redneck straight for a whole five days." Santana pours in a whole carton of soy milk and drops in two protein pills for good measure. The blender screams in pain for the next two minutes as it tries to chop up the gravelly soy-milkshake within it (and failing somewhat).

Santana slides a glass full of the pasty liquid towards Brittany and hops up on a stool next to her. "Drink up," she grimaces.

Brittany gulps down the liquid cement; she barely feels the sand scraping its way down her throat. "For a magical Irish leprechaun, he didn't last as long as I thought he would."

Santana chokes down another mouthful of gritty slurry. "How many songs?"

"He got to about nine last Wednesday." Brittany eyes her glass with great interest. "And then he stopped."

Santana raises an eyebrow. "Stopped? In the middle of—"

"No," Brittany hurriedly corrects. "He finished and all, but then Vocal Adrenaline came the next day and after that, he was different. He just… stopped."

There's a storm raging in Santana's eyes, but the next second, it's gone. "Never mind that," she reassures, patting Brittany gently on the chest. "Finish your soy-milkshake. Soy milk," she pats her own breast, "Is good for you."

* * *

><p>Hands suddenly land on Sunshine's shoulders. She jumps in surprise; for one horrible moment, she thinks that Giselle's going to pull her into the darker areas of backstage and strangle her or something.<p>

"Whoa, don't tell me you're nervous?" Abraham chuckles behind her. "You're going to kill it. And you don't, I will."

Sunshine whirls around, hoping the darkness behind the curtains is concealing her blush. "You surprised me, that's all," she justifies. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Pst, Sunshine! Are you ready?" Blake calls as he hops up the stage steps behind them. "Most of the club's here already and the AV club's waiting."

She looks at all of them. "Thanks—"

"Performance hasn't even started, babe," Abraham winks, taking her hand and leading her to the middle of the stage. "Wait for it…"

The speakers surrounding them crackle to life and play the opening notes. The curtains open, spilling the bright limelight into Sunshine's eyes. Her heart jumps into her throat for a second, but then somebody in the audience shoots her a supportive thumbs-up and she readies herself.

_Pyramid: we built this on a solid rock, it feels just like it's heaven's touch.  
>Together at the top, like a pyramid!<br>And even when the wind is blowing, we'll never fall just keep on going  
>Forever we will stay, like a pyramid.<em>

_Cold, never ever when you're close, we will never let it fold  
>A story that was never told, something like a mystery<em>

Abraham chips in with his stanza, making eye contact with Sunshine and smiling warmly. Sunshine feels a happy sort of warmth flood into her body.

_And every step you took we've grown, look how fast our time has flown  
>A journey to a place unknow—we're going down in history!<em>

Aylin and Blake echo behind Abraham and Sunshine as they join together.

_Earthquakes can't shake us, cyclones can't break us, hurricanes can't take away our love._

Sunshine lets loose, belting for all she's worth as Abraham, Aylin, and Blake carry on with the main chorus.

_Pyramid: we built this on a solid rock, it feels just like it's heaven's touch.  
>Together at the top, like a pyramid!<br>And even when the wind is blowing, we'll never fall just keep on going  
>Forever we will stay, like a pyramid.<em>

A scattering of applause greets her at the end—not as much as Sunshine had hoped for. There is a row of people giving her a standing ovation though. She tries to take a closer peek, but the spotlight's too bright and the audience too dark.

"That was amazing!" Blake congratulates as soon as they're behind the curtains again. "Way better than last night! Now I see why Coach Goolsby went through all the trouble of pulling you out of another school district."

"Do you see that?" Aylin chirps. "You had the entire back row giving you respect."

Sunshine purses her lips. The New Directions always burst into applause at the end of every solo given during Glee club practices—most of the time, they joined in as backup vocals as well. Sunshine initially thought it a bit over the top, but she joined in anyways and it just became second nature to her. Supporting whomever was up there singing was just part of being in the New Directions family, even the solos only went to those who complained the loudest and bugged the hell out of everybody else until they got it.

So even though the lackluster applause is the response she should expect within a competition for the lead position… Sunshine still feels disappointed.

Aylin apparently sees this on Sunshine's face because she elaborates, "Lindsay was in the back row. The female understudy was supporting you, and she's the one who's in the position to take your spot if you die or something."

Sunshine bites her lip. "Oh. I thought I was the understudy though."

"You will be," Abraham hastily corrects as they dismount the stage and wander into the audience. "Right now, Giselle's the substitute lead, Lindsay's the understudy, and you're the star-to-be. After Sectionals, though, you'll be the lead, Lindsay will still be the understudy, and Giselle's going back to her previous position of bitchy wannabe."

"The thing I don't get," Aylin adds, "Is why Lindsay's willing to support you. She probably has some sort of agenda…"

"Then why don't we ask her?" Sunshine proposes, heading for the back row.

"What?" Aylin gasps, horrorstruck. "No, wait! Sunshine—"

Blake puts a hand on her shoulder and steers her along. "We can take her," he says gruffly. "If it comes down to that…"

* * *

><p>Kurt has this perpetually dazed look that he can't seem to wipe off his face, no matter where he is—classroom, dining center, hallway. It's like he can't believe this is really happening: a school where people aren't constantly shoving him around or ignoring him completely. Cameron still remembers his freshman impression of the hallways of McKinley as being somewhat similar to a lions' den, in which wide-shoulder guys like Trent or Flint were most likely to shove you up against the lockers and steal your lunch money.<p>

But here at Dalton, Trent's perfectly willing to point Kurt in the direction of the French classroom, and Flint's walking down the hallways with his nose stuck in a philosophy book.

Kurt also acts very dazed around a certain person. It's pretty obvious to everybody but the person in mind, who is the definition of clueless.

"So how's the Dalton experience?" Blaine laughs as they sit down at the same table. Cameron, sitting two tables over, tunes in. It's not like Flint or Wes will notice his lack of conversation anyways. The big guy's always reading, and Wes talks enough with the proper nod.

"Amazing," Kurt stutters. "This place is… it's like gay Narnia. It's incredible."

"Gay Narnia, huh. I guess you could say that. So, Sebastian ran you through dance boot camp last night, right?"

"Oh god. You know, I'm not sure how a blind guy manages to stay in sync better than I can. No offense to the blind man."

"Mario? He's insanely talented. It's something you just have to admire. He doesn't let that slow him down; he's just got the dance and the beat so internalized that he doesn't need to look at anybody else to keep him on track."

"That, and Sebastian never, ever stops drilling the dance into you. All he has to do is don an apron and he could be Mercedes' mom."

"And who's Mercedes?" a new voice asks lightly.

"Speak of the devil," Blaine says awkwardly. "Hey Sebastian."

"Gentleman. Lady." A cursory nod to each. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Yeah, sure," Blaine says, a bit flustered. Cameron winces; no matter how many times Blaine has tried to break away, he always returns to Sebastian in the end. "Hey, thanks for saving Cameron from certain death yesterday."

"My pleasure," Sebastian simpers. Cameron can feel the awkwardness hit new highs even over here. "Hey Blaine, I might as well tell you ahead of time who won the Sectionals solo."

Cameron strains his ears, his hopes rising.

"Sectionals solo?" Kurt repeats. "Is that still open? Is there a chance I could do a last minute performance—"

"Sorry Kurt, you were just an hour too late," Sebastian interrupts. "Last night, all the guys coming in after 10pm—that was us returning from the solo competition."

"There's always Regionals," Blaine says comfortingly.

"Anyways, drumroll…" Sebastian pauses, pounding his fingers on the table. "It's Alex!"

Cameron's heart sinks. He shoots an accusatory glare at Wes, who, along with David and Sebastian, are the upperclassmen who lead the Warblers.

Flint's still reading his book, and the Asian doesn't notice until he's finished with his text. "Sorry about that, Melissa doesn't like it when I ignore her..." He jumps. "Whoa, Cameron. Is something wrong?"

Cameron wipes his face clean. "Nothing. You've got a booger hanging out," he says indifferently, turning his eyes back to his sandwich and his ears to the Klainebastian conversation. Flint snorts in laughter (though from the book or comment, Cameron doesn't know) and Wes frantically covers his face.

"We're meeting with Alex later this afternoon," Sebastian continues.

Blaine pauses. "Uh, I was going to take Kurt on an official tour of the grounds."

"Get Cameron to do it," Sebastian says dismissively. "This is a mandatory training session crash course. Alex has to be in top condition in three days, and he needs a lesson in dance training and crowd-pleasing confidence. Right after classes, alright? We'll finish in time for rehearsal."

Blaine murmurs an apology to Kurt as Sebastian gets to his feet. "I'll see you two later. Gentleman, lady, farewell."

As soon as Sebastian is out of earshot, Kurt hisses, "What does he have on you?"

Blaine blinks, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"He… he keeps looking at you. And you act all intimidated around him—"

"No! Whoa whoa whoa. You've got us, uh, me wrong. Sebastian's not… he's… he's my ex."

Kurt presses his lips together. "Really."

"Yeah. We broke up two months ago."

"Two… months. Are you sure it isn't weeks? Or days? Looking at the way you act around him, it's like he just broke your heart or something."

"Uh, I was the one who ended the relationship." Even without looking at his roommate, Cameron can tell he's blushing hotly.

"Oh. Well why—"

"Can we talk about something else, Kurt?" Blaine gets to his feet, his lunch tray rattling with dishware. "Let's… let's go."

Kurt rises to his feet, and footsteps pad off into the distance.

The entire table vibrates as Wes' phone buzzes again. For a quick second, Cameron thinks his own phone has rung and pulls it out.

Huh, right. Five missed calls and two texts. Last night, Cameron had pretty much dropped his slacks, phone and wallet still in the pockets, in front of his bed and crawled in. Then, then next morning, he simply slipped out of bed and straight into his pants again. He hadn't checked for missed calls…

Interesting: two of the calls are from Damian, the Irish transfer who helped him with Hannah's Project GCAMBT. He's barely talked to Hannah since then—just a couple random texts and Facebook posts. He should check up on how she's coming along. And Damian… what would he want to talk about? Apparently it was pretty important to Damian at the time if he called twice. Cameron pulls out a pen and writes a reminder on his arm to call Damian after school.

The class bell rings, signifying that the lunch break is over, and Cameron joins the rush of boys back to classes.

* * *

><p>"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute!" a voice yells as Giselle marches onto the stage, surrounded by five backups. "What happened to no dancers?"<p>

"It doesn't hurt, does it," Giselle shouts back. "Vocal Adrenaline hasn't won at Nationals five times in a row through just vocal talent. There's like, just as much incredible dancing that goes into the performance. Before you get your panties in a knot though, sweetie," she shouts, cutting off the retort she knows the articulate understudy was about to shoot off, "Know that nothing was choreographed. I swear, I'm just going to do my own thing up here. And if they follow me, so what?"

Really, she's telling the truth. She told the girls to follow her. True, they're the best dancers that Vocal Adrenaline has got, so they'll pick up pretty fast; Giselle's sticking to pattern #4, so the girls will probably recognize it instantly. Dakota Stanley's drilled at least 15 core choreography patterns into their heads that he can build upon for further complex dance moves without much difficulty.

The dance beat starts. Giselle positions herself in the center of circle of girls and begins to move, rolling her hips every beat.

_Where have you been? Cause I never see you out  
>Are you hiding from me, yeah, somewhere in the crowd?<em>

_Where have you been all my life, all my life?  
>Where have you been all my life?<br>Where have you been all my life?  
>Where have you been all my life?<br>Where have you been all my life?_

Every repetition, she throws in a different spin, rising higher and higher into technical difficulty, until she's belting the last note with all the passion she can muster. And she really means it: she has yet to find somebody, one person, who truly understands who she is.

Or more like who she identifies as.

Before she clawed her way to the top of Vocal Adrenaline, she was nobody. Nobody really understood her for who she _truly _was. Growing up in a Jewish community with African-American relatives involved in the church, people she thought were her closest friends told her she was just _wrong_ for believing she wasn't a woman. After all, being born into a woman's body meant that you were that way for life, right?

_I've been everywhere, girl, looking for someone,  
>Someone who can love me, love me all night long.<br>I've been everywhere, girl, looking for you babe,  
>Looking for you babe, searching for you babe.<em>

Her hands and knees hit the floor, but even this is something she can incorporate into her dance improvisation. She stretches her legs, crumples, rolls and pops right back to her feet.

It wasn't until she met Jesse St. James and was introduced to Vocal Adrenaline that she finally found a group of friends that didn't try to correct and control her struggle with her identity. They simply accepted her as a great dancer and a better singer and allowed her into their ranks. Sure, they aren't really solid friends—they probably would have willingly torn her down if she hadn't beat them into submission first once she became co-leads with Jesse—but at least they're people she can hang out and joke with, people who don't look down at her and judge her for every decision she makes.

She already has enough people judging her to last a lifetime. People who've beaten her down, telling her that she's something she's not. People who insist on telling her she's wrong or immoral or shameless for simply being who she is.

More like, hopefully in the near future, who **_he_** will be.

But until then, until she can make that decision for herself, Giselle doesn't need any of that judgmental crap. Even if it means hiding at the top of Vocal Adrenaline, surrounded by fake friends, she's content.

Only now, the tiny Asian Speck's trying to take her safety away from her.

_I've been everywhere, girl, looking for you babe,  
>Looking for you babe, searching for you babe.<em>

She finishes on her knees, panting slightly. She's got to get the spotlight focused on her. She can't let Asian Speck ruin her (pretend) perfect life.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_GLEE/TGP1/TGP2 CRACK PAIRING POLL IS UP. _

_By crack pairing, I mean a completely random pairing; I seriously wrote names on slips of paper, dropped them in a hat, and pulled them out in pairs. And repeated this process two more times. Can you believe Finn/Rachel, Sam/Kurt, and Tina/Hannah came out twice? It's fate... Nah, don't let that tempt you. And if your OTP doesn't show up in the poll... well, I guess Fate doesn't approve? _

_Pairings will not necessarily be romantic; they may be besties, or frenemies, or have UST. The pairing will just have a link stronger than acquaintances. Top rated pairings may appear in this story, but most likely they'll just pop up in a one-shot or mini series (or dream sequence! You'll have to go to **fleshflash** for that though) that I'll do later._

_So go check out the poll NOW._

_Back to this story: writing Brittany is awesome, I've been listening to Charice's "Pyramid" on loop, I suck at math (why can't I just use a graphing calculator?), and have I mentioned how much I like__ Sebastian? At least my version of him: less of a one-dimensional villain and more of a person. Still a major obstacle for Klaine, but hopefully more relatable. _

_I wish TGP's "Perfect" was an actual movie. I've already lifted some of the plot for the purposes of this story (teehee), but somebody needs to write a legit fanfiction based around the fake movie - that's what fanfiction's for, right?_


	50. Matchmaking II

_A/N: So I lied. I really couldn't miss out on an update before the season finale, you know? Plus I had a TON of fun writing this chapter. See why in the Author's Rant._

* * *

><p>Damian's talking to Justine Bieber at lunch.<p>

The only thought that scuttles across the barren desert that is Brittany's mind is that Santana was right: Damian _must _be gay. Maybe it's just like that one time with Kurt last year, when he magically turned straight for a couple days and then was like, "JK LOL actually I like guys again." Or maybe he's like Marissa, who was totally okay kissing somebody of the same gender and then her stupid McKinley brain kicked in and was like, "Whoa this is so gay. I need to think about this for a long time."

And that's okay. Brittany's totally okay with giving Marissa and Damian time until they figure out where their boundaries are and where they stand.

But that doesn't excuse the fact that Damian forgot to unhook Brittany—which means that, where he's going, he's still dragging her along and it hurts. So, even though she knows Santana's expecting her to join her in flirting with some of the football players, Brittany decides to settle things once and for all.

Damian spots her first and his entire face goes—BAM! Red. He quickly gets up and leaves before Brittany can even get close enough, leaving behind a half-eaten sloppy joe and an untouched salad.

"Hey Beebs," Brittany says as she reaches the spot where Irish exchange once was. "Where did Damian go?"

Justine Beebs just looks at her, also looking somewhat put out. "He suddenly realized his bladder was about to spontaneously combust and went to go relieve some of the pressure."

None of this makes much sense to Brittany, so she just sits in Damian's vacated seat and shoves Damian's tray aside to make room for her own. "Is he coming back?"

"He better," Justine Beebs mutters.

"Good," Brittany declares. "Because I need to Talk to him."

Justine Beebs looks at her. From this close, Brittany realizes that she was never aware how much Beebs looks like a girl. "Actually, I don't think he'll be back in time," Beebs says slowly, staring at something over Brittany's shoulder. "Um, there's a lot of pressure that he needs to get rid of." She stares a bit harder and nods slightly. "Uh, I'll just take his backpack with me then." She begins tossing trash onto her tray in preparation to leave. "Nice talking to you, Brittany."

Brittany pouts. Even though Damian's condition sounds pretty serious, he can't miss Glee practice. Sectionals is on Friday. "Fine," she says. "Then I'll see you at practice?"

Beebs' eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

"You're going to show choir practice," Brittany states firmly. "See you later."

* * *

><p>Dani's jaw drops as the cheerleader sashays away. She… what… but… huh? Did she just get recruited to show choir?<p>

Her first thought is, _No way. Social suicide. And I'm already in AV club, it's too much…_

But then again, she'd promised to help Damian. They'd been brainstorming possible male or female distractions and how to lure them to Brittany when the lady herself appeared. And Damian had promptly freaked out—though Dani can guess why: the teenager had approached them with a clear purpose in her expression. She wanted to Talk.

And Damian wasn't quite ready to wrap up the Relationship Talk.

Though from the sounds of what Brittany said, it seems as if Damian never even tried. Like maybe he didn't even tell her anything before running. Crazy relationship or not, that's still kind of a Jerk Move, which makes things a whole lot more difficult.

She considers bailing, right then and there. It's Damian's problem; let him deal with it. He should have Talked to her before going off and doing his own thing. It sucks that he's been sucked right back in by their parents getting serious with each other, but that just means that he has to wrap up things sooner.

But now Dani's been sucked in as well—from the way Brittany looked at her, Dani knows that the cheerleader already associates her with Damian. Dani is now part of the problem; Dani must help solve the problem.

Dani really needs to talk to Damian about this.

Possibly during the only class they have together: English, which begins right after lunch. The only problem is that she sits in the back and he sits practically in front of the teacher's desk. So that's probably a no-go.

And after school, Damian says he devotes about two hours to the New Directions, which conflicts with Dani's AV club meetings. Except Brittany expects her at Glee club…

She _really_ needs to give Damian a piece of her mind.

But first things first: take care of Brittany. Find her a distraction by plotting with Damian first. Her best bet: the New Directions. And hey, they might even find a distraction within the show choir members.

Ugh. Show choir. Dani shivers, but comforts herself that it's only for today. Just a one-time thing to dip in, talk to Damian, and jump out. That's all.

She needs a friend to accompany her, though. Damian isn't quite a friend either. She really needs help…

* * *

><p>Because of Mr. Engerson's incapability of remembering names or faces, the English teacher usually spends the first ten minutes of every class slowly meandering down the roll call—which gives Michael and Dani plenty of time to goof off, being at the bottom of the list.<p>

"Toph Beifong…"

"What?"

"Cho Chang…"

"Here."

Dani turns around in her seat to face Michael. "So, guess what happened last night?"

Michael grins slyly. "A monstrous turtle kidnapped your princess again?"

Dani just gives him a flat look. "No, really. Guess."

Michael just folds his arms on the desk in front of him and leans closer to Dani, whispering, "You snapped your fingers, yelled _Abracabra_, and was promptly smacked in the face with a cherry pie."

Dani's flat look morphs into an exasperated _why-am-I-your-friend_ look. "Where… how? Never mind."

"Sam Evans…"

"Here!"

"Claire Farron…"

"Present."

"Thalia Grace…"

"Yeah."

"Kain Highwind…"

"Present, sir."

"Orihime Inoue…"

"Hi!"

Michael guesses, "Living shadows tried to steal your heart while you whacked them away with a massively oversized key—"

Dani smacks Michael's desk with the flat of her palm for emphasis. "Shut up. Brittany Pierce almost ran me over with her car yesterday while I was biking home."

Michael's jaw drops. "Whoa. Are you okay?" He glances over her face and her body, looking for bandages and finding none. "Okay, I know what happened: you cast a barrier before you—"

"Please, stop making video game references," Dani hisses. "Sometimes I wonder why I hang out with you sometimes."

"I'm your only friend."

"You're one to talk."

The truth of the statement stings slightly, but he replies good-naturedly, "Touche. Ouch."

Dani is sort of right; Michael doesn't have a lot of friends at McKinley High. He fits so tightly into the geeky nerd stereotype that, even though a couple cheerleaders have graced him with their presence and talk with him occasionally, nobody really dares hang out with him.

That's okay, though; Michael already has quite a few activities on his hands. Like helping run the school's audio-visual system when Artie isn't around and gaining experience and leveling up in League of Legends.

And work. Michael literally can't stop thinking about how emotionally and physically exhausting work is, no matter how much it pays. Last night, he'd had to deal with an especially angry customer who'd complained that he didn't get what he paid for. Michael ended up giving him a bit more before he'd finally been satisfied.

"Tifa Lockhart…"

"I'm here!"

"Damian McGinty…"

"Here."

Dani leans onto Michael's desk. "Back to the main point: Brittany hit me! Almost ran me over with her car."

The startling statement shocks Michael out of his pity party. "Did she even notice?"

"No, and that's the thing: she didn't know. The impact knocked me into the little pond full of algae in the park, so when she got out of the car, all she saw was her cat."

"No way," Michael chuckles. "She thought she hit her cat?"

Dani clonks her forehead on Michael's desk. "Yes. She thought she hit Lord Tubbington. It was Damian who pulled me out of the pond." She points towards the middle of the room, where the guy with an obvious Irish accent had just responded to roll call.

Michael purses his lips. People in Brittany's car at any hour of night usually meant only one thing. "What was he doing there?"

"It's not what you think," Dani warns. "His mom is moving into their house, and he actually _doesn't_ want to live with Brittany. As in, he was so desperate to _not_ spend the night at Brittany's house that he asked if he could crash at my place."

"Gary Oak…"

"Yes."

"Winry Rockbell…"

"Hello!"

"Neku Sakuraba."

"Mmph."

"Dani Shay."

Dani whirls back to the front of the room so quickly that it almost gives Michael whiplash just from watching her. "Here," she calls somewhat nervously. Of course, the teacher is still staring at the roll call list; his eyes aren't anywhere near the behavior of the classroom, which right now is like quiet chaos—chattering, spit balls, procrastinators frantically trading answers for the homework due as soon as roll call's over.

"I'm Michael and I'm here too," Michael says quickly, wanting to get back into conversation with Dani. "Let me get this straight," he says softly. "Brittany almost ran you over and an Irish guy pops out of her car. Com'on, Dani, think Irish people: beer and s—"

Dani smacks him on the shoulder. "And you're the one who's always wishing you could break free of your stereotype."

Michael falls silent. She's got a point. "Anyways," Michael continues, "Random stranger helps you out of the slimy pond. Random stranger asks to go home with you, right after being in Brittany's car. And you say yes."

Dani scowls at him. "Stop stereotyping. And I couldn't say no; he was _that _desperate. Like animal-being-led-to-the-slaughter terrified."

"That's pretty serious," Michael says lightly. "So is he sleeping over again tonight, is he? Irish guy with Brittany, Irish guy with you. Who knows what diseases—"

Dani socks him hard on the shoulder this time. "Shut up. And no, I'm not sure if Damian's found other housing." She lowers her voice. "So this is going to sound crazy, but…"

At the same time, the teacher reaches the bottom of the list. "And last but not least, Nellie—"

"I'm here!" Nellie gaps as she enters the classroom at a run and dumps her books at her vacant table three rows in front of Michael. "Please don't mark me late—I'm sorry, my calculus class got out late again."

Michael's face lights up at the mention of calculus and a wide grin spreads slowly. Mmm hmm. He's going to have to ask his neighbor what the class is going over… and maybe if she asks him for help, he'll get to read the textbook. It already sounds like a hot date—

As if hearing his thoughts, Nellie's head swivels in his direction. They make eye contact for the briefest moment. A tiny smile blossoms on her face before she suddenly drops her head, a soft curtain of black hair sweeping down and hiding her shy expression from view. A faint red blush creeps up her neck.

Whoops. Did she think he was smiling dopily at her? He quickly turns his attention back to Dani. "What were you saying?"

"Calculus is _soooo_ sexy. Rowr."

CAAAAAAAAALCULUUUUUUUUUUUUS. OH YESSSSSSSS. Michael's mind winds its way through curves rotating around axes to create beautiful three-dimensional objects with volumes equal to pi multiplied by the integration of—

"I know this sounds crazy but you have to help me," Dani hisses hoarsely. "I need to join the Glee club for a day."

Michael's sexy thoughts of volumes of rotated curves calculated using integration die a horrible, agonizing death at Dani's words. "What?" he splutters. "What possessed you to—"

"Please, I just need moral support. Just for one day."

"Dani," Michael leans close to the back of Dani's head since she has to look like she's paying attention. "Glee club is social suicide, you know that? You only commit suicide _once!_ Just once and your life's over—"

"Artie's been in Glee club for over a year and he's still president of the AV club. I hear he's making a movie on his own time too."

"Just look at Artie! He's—"

"Michael, do you have something to share with the class?" Mr. Engerson pipes up from the front of the classroom. The entire class turns to stare at him and Michael slides back, away from Dani, to sink down his chair.

"No, sir," he mumbles, the heat rising in his cheeks.

Mr. Engerson turns away, speaking to everybody again. "Would anybody else like to share their thoughts on Shakespeare's _Midsummer Night's Dream_? Love polygons, anyone?"

If Michael could sink any lower behind his desk, he would. He really doesn't like being put on the spot… actually, he doesn't like any sort of public presentation at all. Unlike math, which is carefully structured and organized and never fails if done correctly, there so many things with public speaking that aren't under your control and can go horribly wrong. That's also why he's in the AV club—computers never fail if you tell them exactly what to do.

It's only now that he notices that a pair of eyes still rest on him. Sam Evans, once he catches Michael's eyes, winks, a sly smile on his face. The expression on the blonde's face… Michael isn't sure how to interpret it.

Facial expressions—that's another thing with no set pattern. Little predictability. No way for him to interpret a person's true meaning right away, not without having to do a little digging to find out what's they're really thinking through their eyes (because Dani, who, when she isn't slapping him upside the head, has an infinity of chillax wisdom, says that eyes are the windows to the soul).

So he just smiles back uncertainly. The guy's a great gaming buddy, but what's the wink supposed to mean?

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_I had a bit of fun and inserted secondary characters from my favorite games/movies/books onto the roll call list. Some of the characters you won't know unless you're half as obsessed with them as I am ;) 10 characters from 10 separate anime/games/movies/books have been listed… so one brownie point each for guessing where each character comes from! _

_Toph Beifong  
>Cho Chang<br>Claire Farron  
>Thalia Grace<br>Kain Highwind  
>Orihime Inoue<br>Tifa Lockhart  
>Gary Oak<br>Winry Rockbell  
>Neku Sakuraba<em>

_And another point each for guessing which source Michael was referring to:_

"_A monstrous turtle kidnapped your princess again?"  
>"Living shadows tried to steal your heart while you whacked them away with a massively oversized key."<em>

_I referenced __Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality__ with Michael's second guess: "You snapped your fingers, yelled _Abracabra_, and was promptly smacked in the face with a cherry pie." During his first day at Hogwarts, Harry Potter scares bullies away from Neville by yelling "Abracabra," which all non-Muggleborns mistake as "Avada Kedavra." The cherry pie appears out of nowhere and splashes red all over the bully's face, further shocking all spectators. _

_Where did the pie come from? Quoted from chapter 13 of HPMOR: _

"He didn't use his wand!" blurted one of the young Hufflepuffs. "I don't know how he did it either, he just snapped his fingers and there was pie!"

_Oh, and an extra 10 brownie points for anybody who can guess the plans I have for Giselle. (Her scene is the last chapter hopefully was hint enough.) Like I said, don't hate on her!_


	51. Tumblring

_**I GOT A TUMBLR.  
><em><em><strong>inkbenderfic. tumblr. com<strong>__  
><strong>_

_With the help of **TheGleekFromDeathlyHallows**, I have officially set up a tumblr. _

_Why?_

_Because Fanfiction. com deleted "Eleventh Hour" :( Apparently interactive and otherwise second-person perspective stories aren't allowed on this site. Which I didn't know, but I'm really disappointed. The story allowed me to throw characters together without worrying about the technicalities - how they met, do they have history, etc.; in "Eleventh Hour", everybody's been thrown together on a crazy adventure and they have to make it work. Basically, a worry-free story on my end, one that I write when I'm stressed or squeezed for time (which, nowadays, is pretty much all the time)._

_So, in order to keep posting "Eleventh Hour", I've set up a tumblr for it. I'm still finding out how it works (thanks again to_ **TheGleekFromDeathlyHallows** for her help) but you can check it out at **inkbenderfic. tumblr. com (slash) writing**__

__Don't worry, I'm finishing up the next chapter of "Glee Project: Live Out Loud." It's just considerably more stressful and takes a lot more time to write than "Eleventh Hour."__

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Shameless Promotion #2<strong>_

_**Write a story with me!**__ I'm serious; I want to write a story with you. I mentioned interfics in an early chapter, but I'll explain it again… (Or I'll copy and paste the explanation from the website.)_

_**Interactive Fanfics are 'choose your own ending' (or 'choose your own continuation' if you prefer) stories started by one author and continued by any number of others who wish to participate. At the end of each segment, readers are given the opportunity to either wait for the next installment or write their own contribution. The direction of the story can change depending on who writes it and other authors must react to the creativity of their fellow ficcers. Interfics are a fun way to share your ideas if you find it difficult to write an entire fic on your own, and unlike RPGs anyone can join in at any time and nobody is confined to writing from only one character's point of view.**_

_So, I've already started an interfic about the Glee Project contenders entering McKinley High during the third season. So far it's just the first season characters, and I'm thinking for more of a first-time-in-high-school-experience for everybody rather than somehow-everybody-decides-to-sign-up-for-Glee-club. But really, it's up to you guys and what you see in the story. The possibilities are endless right now, waiting for you to fill them in!_

_So if that sounds interesting, go check out **interfics. proboards. com**. Just register with the site and join my interfic! I would seriously LOVE it if I could co-write a story with you!_

_Here, actually, let me post the first three segments for you here. If you're interested in continuing it, GO DO IT. NOW._

* * *

><p><strong>Crossroads (Glee Project enters third season)<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>written by<strong>**: inkbender**

The first thing McKynleigh spotted upon walking into the cafeteria was the awkward purple piano sitting in the corner; she was pretty sure it hadn't been there when she came in for a quick pre-school snack this morning. Eyebrow raised, she took a moment to inspect at the colorful instrument—a bright lavender stand up that looked to be in relatively good condition. Glancing around surreptitiously and confirming that there were not very many students yet to cast (probably negative) judgment on her, she slunk over to the piano and tested a note.

Clear and beautiful. She glanced around another time, and, satisfied that most people were lining up on the other side of the lunch room in front of the food bar and thus probably wouldn't heckle her from such a distance, seated herself on the purple piano bench. Her fingers rested lightly on the keyboard, growing accustomed to the feel of the piano—

"Miki! What are you doing? Where did that piano come from?"

McKynleigh jumped and whirled around; Marissa stood at the entrance of the lunch room, her lithe figure squeezed into a spanking-new Cheerio outfit, one hand digging around in her messenger bag.

"Get in line with me," Marissa said quickly without waiting for an answer, victoriously pulling her school ID card out of her bag. As McKynleigh sprang to her feet and slipped with Marissa into the ever-growing lunch line, the redhead posed her questions again. "Was that piano there this morning?"

"I don't think so," McKynleigh finally replied, glancing back at the purple piano. "Some teacher must have snuck it in during classes." She gestured excitedly at Marissa's outfit. "You got into the Cheerios!"

Marissa's eyes lit up. "Just barely," she said modestly. "One of the current Cheerios got in the right place at the wrong time. Another girl landed on her—boom. Two open spots."

McKynleigh's mouth dropped open. "No way."

Marissa nodded solemnly, grabbing an empty lunch tray. "Coach Sylvester was so furious, she picked two random girls just to spite the ones who messed up. Lucky me."

McKynleigh placed a plate of curiously wobbly spaghetti on her lunch tray and followed Marissa to the salad and fruit bar. "That's awesome!" she exclaimed. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when Marissa took only a couple slices of cucumber, some leaves of spinach, two carrot sticks, and an apple. "Aren't you going to eat more?"

"I'm not really hungry," Marissa said dismissively.

McKynleigh shrugged, drizzling ranch dressing all over her salad and following her friend out towards the rows and rows of tables. "When do you start practice?"

Marissa gave her an apologetic look. "Today. Right after school. And… uh, McKynleigh?"

McKynleigh's heart dropped. Marissa didn't really use her real name unless something serious was coming up. That hint, plus Marissa's new uniform… "Uh, actually Mars, I think I'll go sit with Cameron today. He's looking a bit lonelier than usual."

Cameron was usually fine chilling by himself, but Marissa didn't need to know that.

Marissa looked quite relieved. "Oh, alright," she said hurriedly. "I… I'll see you after sch—I mean, I'll see you after practice." And with that, she walked quickly towards the table full of Cheerios and football jocks. McKynleigh watched her go a little wistfully, then turned towards the table closest to the food bar (and thus under the closest school surveillance—no bullies here) and began walking over slowly.

Which is when the music began.

-x-

Cameron was jolted from his short nap with a sudden blast of music—heavy drums and electric guitar quickly followed by a brunette belting lyrics about having a beat or something.

It was only then that Cameron realized that two people were sitting next to him.

"Whoa. Hi, Miki. And Lindsay," Cameron greeted, yawning halfway through the blonde's name. "What happened to sitting under the stairs?"

"Ugh… I hate cottage cheese," Lindsay groaned, completely ignoring his question. "I don't get why my mom thinks putting pineapple and red food coloring into it makes it taste any better."

McKynleigh eyed the lumpy dessert in the small Tupperware suspiciously. "Shouldn't it be a little more… solid? It looks awfully runny."

Lindsay tipped the plastic container to the side, watching the pink semi-liquid slosh around inside. She then shoved it away and made a face, instead abruptly declaring, "I'm thinking about dyeing my hair. What do you think about black?"

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "Really? You know**She**would hate it."

Lindsay only leveled him with a flat glare. Behind her, McKynleigh slid two fingers across her throat and shook her head frantically.

Cameron promptly turned to McKynleigh and tried to act as nonchalant as possible. "So Miki… where'd your friend go? Melissa?"

"Marissa," McKynleigh corrected. "And she became a Cheerio today." She jerked her head over to the cheerleader's table, and Cameron's heart sank as he spotted the pretty redhead sitting in a crowd of white and red uniforms.

"Oh," Cameron said. "I guess that means she won't be sitting with us anymore?" It had been only three days since school started (com'on, the first couple days of high school were supposed to be terrifying, right?) and he'd been working up the courage to talk to her… though it seemed as if he was too late now.

McKynleigh inspected him shrewdly; he broke eye contact and pretended to busy himself with his lunch. "No, I don't think so," McKynleigh responded, and she sounded just as glum as Cameron felt.

The High School Musical army drew back to the purple piano, signifying the end of the song. Having been at the front of the cafeteria, farthest away from the singing group and their shenanigans, Cameron hadn't really noticed the other teenagers dancing on top of the tables, or the football quarterback playing the drums, or the Cheerios who also appeared to be in the singing group.

Or the fuzzy haired, bespectacled journalist recording the entire thing with a camcorder who broke the concluding deathlyI'm-totally-judging-yousilence with the awful words: "FOOD FIGHT!"

McKynleigh screamed, sliding her lunch tray from underneath her plate of half-eaten spaghetti to shield her face. Lindsay screamed as well, but for an entirely different reason; gleefully, she seized her tub of cottage cheese dessert and lobbed it into the panicking crowd of high schoolers and a teacher or two, showering shrieking Cheerios with tiny pink lumps of nastiness. Cameron leapt to his feet as well, right in time for a rock-hard apple to nail him between the eyes.

Darkness.

-x-

**written by****: Willow Weasley**

Emily sat, laughing like a maniac, under the table as she watched her best friend Samuel participate in the food fight. She thought it was crazy that the student body had erupted in a food fight just because the glee club started singing in the cafeteria.

The kids who had song some song she had never heard of before weren't bad. They actually sounded pretty good. But this was high school in America, not in Venezuela.

Emily was still adapting to her new life in America. She and her family had moved from Venezuela to nowhere, Ohio because her mother got a great job offer as a doctor at the local hospital. Needless to say, Emily wasn't too happy about moving to a new country where she hardly spoke the same language.

"Come on, Em. Come have some fun." Samuel called through his laughter. He knelt down in front of her and offered her a handful of spaghetti.

"No. I am wearing silk. I'm not risking it." she said, running her hand down the side of her black corset.  
>"Suit yourself." he said, standing back up.<p>

The rowdiness in the cafeteria instantly died down as a skinny, blonde haired boy fell to the ground.  
>Emily crawled out from under the table, careful not to get any of the mess that was on the floor on her white jeans. She hid behind Samuel, to avoid any stray food that might be thrown, and looked over at the boy on the floor.<p>

He looked familiar. She probably had a class or two with him. Two girls were kneeling over him.  
>"I'm gonna go see if I can help." Samuel said, heading over to them.<p>

Most of the student body began quickly filing out of the cafeteria, not wanting to be blamed for the mess.

Emily followed Samuel as quickly as her high heels would let her.

"Is he gonna be okay?" the blonde girl asked.

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Samuel said, kneeling down next to him.

"NOBODY MOVE!" Couch Sue yelled, bursting through the cafeteria doors.

-x-

**written by****: Mary In the Stars**

From her hideout under the Cheerios' table, Marissa examined the bright pink cottage cheese splatters on her uniform. Dead, she was dead! Making a note to give Lindsay a piece of her mind later, she looked around for help. Most of the Cheerios had booked it out of the cafeteria as soon as they heard the battle cry. First tryouts, now this...were the first days of high school usually this intense?

And now, topping it all off, Cameron was actually unconscious on the floor of the cafeteria. Marissa's eyes widened in horror. She didn't really know Cameron, but he was Miki's friend and she was a pretty good judge of character. He wasn't exactly vocal, but hey, neither was Marissa. Making sure her path was clear, she started to crawl out from under the table –

"NOBODY MOVE!"

Marissa froze. Then, taking another look at the poor guy lying on the linoleum tiles, she figured she could slip out unnoticed and get him an ice pack from the nurse.

But before she got further than a few inches, someone grabbed her, sharp nails digging into her wrist, and forcibly jerked Marissa back under the table. "When Coach says 'don't move,'_you. Do. Not. Move_," hissed a Cheerio. Marissa hadn't even noticed her there, but now she recognized her as one of the co-captains, Santana, a powerful senior practically coming out of her uniform top. "Try not to scream 'freshman' so much," she continued with a hint of a Hispanic accent, looking Marissa up and down. "Or you _won't _last long."

Another Cheerio, the blonde who had thrown herself over the table as part of the failed flash mob, joined them in hiding from Coach Sue's tirade.

"Britt, what took you so long?" Santana snapped.

"I tried to help New Directions but I just got spaghetti in my ponytail," Brittany whispered. Then, noticing Marissa, she said very seriously, "Are you lost?"

Marissa was about to answer, but was interrupted by Coach Sue. "WHERE ARE THE CHEERIOS CAPTAINS?!"

Santana rolled her eyes. "That's my cue. Stay put," she said firmly. Marissa watched her crawl out from under the table and join Becky in front of the coach.

"Becky. Lady Ta-Ta. What started this abomination?" Sue said calmly.

"It was the Glee Club, Coach!" Becky answered immediately.

"Santana, were you a part of this?"

"She sang a solo!"

"Becky, you'll stay here and help me get this under control. Jugs the Clown, get out of my sight and figure out where your allegiance lies. Everybody else," Sue called through her megaphone, "GET TO WORK!"

The student body began to disperse, grabbing cleaning supplies from the lunch ladies or trying to get to class out the back door. Cameron looked like he was well taken care of, with at least four kids hanging over him. Marissa turned her attention back to her stained uniform. Maybe she could find a kindhearted janitor with a Tide To-Go...

"My friend Rachel can help you with that," Brittany said, examining Marissa's outfit. "She brings cleaning stuff every day for when she gets Slushied."

"So this is a normal thing here?"

"So much to learn, Ranga." Santana stepped quickly in between Marissa and Brittany, playing with the blonde's ponytail.

"Let's take her to the Choir Room, Santana," Brittany pleaded. "We have to help her!"

"Like hell, we do."

"But she's been separated from her parents!"

Marissa raised an eyebrow. "Um, what?"

"Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schue."

"Oh, no, I'm not–"

"Stop talking," Santana snapped, jabbing an elbow into Marissa's side. She looked at the blonde with a mix of blank confusion and good-natured pity. "Brittany, there is no possible way for Ms. Pillsbury to have a daughter."

"But Marissa has their hair combination! It's curly and red!"

Santana rubbed her temples. "No, Britt, Ms. Pillsbury cannot possibly have a daughter because – actually, we'll revisit this another day when we have more time. Let's get you cleaned up." She started out the cafeteria.

Brittany stayed put, wrapping her arms around Marissa's waist. "But you wouldn't leave Orphan Annie alone and covered in cheese, would you?"

A stormy look crossed the Latina's face – jealousy? – but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

Instead of calling her out on it, Marissa just gently unwrapped herself from Brittany's hug and fingered the drying food on her uniform.

Santana let out a tired, exaggerated sigh. "Alright, what's your next class, Gingersnap?"

Marissa smiled slightly and unfolded her schedule from her messenger bag, practically immune to "ginger" comments. "Algebra."

Brittany poked her nose over Marissa's shoulder, and the redhead flinched slightly at the sudden close contact. "You can miss that," Britt stated simply. Puck hasn't gone to a math class in three years. We're skipping class anyway. Come with us." She grabbed Marissa's hand.

Marissa looked around for any teachers of coaches who could hear them. "Oh, I don't want you guys to skip..."

The Latina raised her eyebrows in a_Really_? expression. "Yeah, well...we have Sex Ed, and it's a little late for us. Look, you want your uniform clean or not?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks so much to <em>_**Shelby-belby **__and __**Mary In the Stars**__ for posting—I LOVE IT. THANK YOU._

_On another note, I've written in present tense for about 4 or 5 years now, so it was REALLY HARD writing in past tense again. But hey, I figured that most people write in past tense, and I wanted to make this more accessible to most people._

_Please go check it out and add to the interfic at __**interfics. proboards (slash) index. cgi? board (equal sign) gleeinterfics**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Extreme Gratitude<strong>_

_Check out my tumblr, please? I'm still finding out how it works._


	52. Matchmaking III

Lindsay's got her eyes peeled to Giselle's performance. Despite how much of a strong-willed, bigoted bitch she can be sometimes, Lindsay can't help but admit that Giselle has Stanley's dance patterns down pat. She starts off with #4, but halfway through collapses to her hands and knees and does an improvisation of #12 on the ground, her legs sliding out over the stage. When her voice does crack, Lindsay's not sure if it was on purpose or not; it definitely does add more emotion into the rather upbeat song.

She's surprised when Sunshine Corazon, the recent transfer from McKinley High (and the one who'd ruined VA's invasion), sits down in the row in front of her, followed by the three show choir members who backed her up: Abraham, Lindsay's fellow understudy, Aylin, the girl she knocked over during practice last week, and Blake, the guy who'd defended her. Lindsay gives Aylin a tiny smile. Aylin gives her a suspicious look and sits on the opposite side of Blake, as far away as she can.

Sunshine turns around and flashes a bright smile at Lindsay. "Thanks for your support," she says sweetly.

Lindsay leans forward and pats Sunshine's shoulder. "No problem, girl," she replies, chuckling slightly. "I'm Lindsay."

"Sunshine," the little Asian grins.

"This feels a little weird—it was only last Thursday that we were trying to tear New Directions down and you stole the show from us… and now you're here. You're one of Damian's friends, right?"

Sunshine looks a little surprised. "Yeah. How do you know him?"

Now it's Lindsay's turn to be surprised. Though she realizes that it probably wouldn't help Damian's rep if he told the New Directions that he was dating their hottest competition's lead, she still feels a little disappointed. "He… didn't tell you?"

"I haven't really talked to him much," Sunshine answers quietly. "Not since Mr. Goolsby approached me during your invasion. I… I had a lot to think about."

"Oh. Well I'm glad you're with us, because you are _incredible_," Lindsay says truthfully, figuring that it would be best if Sunshine found out about her and Damian from Sunshine's friends back in McKinley. "And I really think you deserve the lead position more than Giselle does."

At this point, Abraham butts into the conversation. "What happened to your dreams of knocking Giselle out of her spot, miss Understudy?" he smirks sarcastically. "I mean, you fought Giselle tooth-and-nail for that lead spot at the beginning of the year, and now you're totally okay with letting Sunshine get away with it."

At this, Lindsay feels McKynleigh's glare from three seats over burning two holes in the side of her head. She ignores it; besides, she's got dirt on McKynleigh now (the cowboy stalker) that she can use to divert McKynleigh's attention if she ever asks about Damian. In response to Abraham, she says lightly, "I reconsidered my options and decided that there's always next year."

Abraham levels her with a look that says _Girl, really? _Sunshine takes this as acceptable, though, and nods. "Thanks so much, Lindsay. I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Lindsay says, her eyes returning to Giselle's performance. The song she chose couldn't be a more girly song, but for some reason, Lindsay feels like her dancing seems a little bit forced. Fluid, yes, almost to the point where it seems choreographed, but also like Giselle's not comfortable moving her body that way.

Maybe it's just a hunch.

Giselle finishes on her knees, frozen in a longing, wishful position, before she suddenly rockets back onto her feet. "Alright, vote, people," Giselle huffs, hands on her hips. "Get up here, Asian Speck, where people can actually see you."

Sunshine climbs over the laps of Abraham, Blake, and Aylin and stumbles her way up to the front. Abraham accompanies her up unto the stage, positioning himself between the two competitors and shouting, "Remember, we're judging this based off vocal performance—so screw Giselle's dance sequence, we're looking only at the voices, people. So let me see some hands for Sunshine!"

Lindsay raises her hand. McKynleigh, Aylin, Blake, and the people surrounding them raise their hands as well. All together, they amount to a small quarter of the club.

Giselle's rigged the competition, Lindsay thinks darkly. She's intimidated everybody into silence.

Abraham also looks conflicted; he glowers at Giselle, continuing, "And Giselle…?"

Before he's even finished, some of the audience members have whipped out confetti poppers and air horns, whooping and applauding as over half the club lifts their hands.

Giselle lifts her arms in triumph, shooting a satisfied glare at Sunshine. Abraham looks absolutely furious, glancing around before marching off to the side wings without Sunshine. The little Asian looks so humiliated and alone up there, Lindsay's jumped to her feet before she's realized what she's doing.

"You guys can't be serious!" Lindsay yells, projecting her voice all the way from the back row. Head turn and Lindsay makes herself more visible by climbing over her peers' laps and into the aisle. No turning back now. But really, she'd rather that Sunshine lead Vocal Adrenaline. Compared to the other members of Vocal Adrenaline, all of whom are incredibly competitive, Sunshine's rather tame. She probably would willingly hand over her position to Lindsay in the case that she was unable to sing, unlike Giselle, who last year fought desperately for every solo, even if she'd lost her voice.

Okay, so maybe Lindsay does have an agenda. But she's also defending a new friend. That's got to count for something.

"You can't be serious," Lindsay repeats again, striding down the aisle towards the stage. She doesn't actually get on the stage, though; Giselle's still up there. She just turns around and faces the majority of the club. "Air horns and confetti shooters—how cheap is that? How many of you did she force into screaming your heads off?"

"Shut up," one of Giselle's supporters snaps, stepping up to Lindsay. "Nobody asked your opinion."

Lindsay nails the girl with a threatening scowl. "Who are _you_? I'm Lindsay and I'm the understudy. That girl up there was so amazing, Coach Goolsby cut our budget to get her on our side. You? You're just another background dancer whose only purpose is to make somebody else _shine_. Preferably Sunshine, since Coach actually picked her out." Lindsay drives a finger into the girl's chest, pushing her back. "And by the way, me equaling understudy and you equaling backup? That means I'm more _valuable_ than you are. My opinion matters more than yours. Did I ask for yours? No. Sit down and shut up."

The girl reluctantly collapses back into her seat, just as Abraham's voice booms over the loudspeakers. "Got it!" He runs back onto the stage, a microphone in hand. "Yo everybody, listen up! Now I _know_ that vote was rigged! Great choreography by the way, Giselle, how long did you work on that?"

"That was totally improvised," Giselle hisses. "I swear—"

"Riiight," Abraham drawls. "Listen, when we set the rules yesterday about _no dancing_, that was for a purpose. Yes, Sunshine's not the best dancer right now, we all know that. But the reason why we forbade choreography for this _vocal_ competition is simply because the voice is the core of show choir. Dance is like hairography: it either serves the purpose of enhancing the song or it just distracts the audience away from the fact that the singing isn't all that good. And maybe the general population falls for it, but the judges sure won't. They'll see right through your hairography and pick up on _every, little, flaw_." Abraham emphasizes the last three words of his sentence, staring straight at Giselle, who's looking angrily speechless.

"He's right," an authoritative voice booms from above them, followed by slow claps. Heads turn, looking up at the balcony. Coach Goolsby is standing there, looking over all of them. "Nobody told me about this extra practice. I applaud all of you." He braces his hands against the railing, leaning forward contemplatively. "Now I want to see an honest opinion. Who had more vocal talent: Sunshine or Giselle? Or should Giselle repeat her performance without her choreography?"

Quiet murmuring. Abraham shouts into his mike, "Hands up for Sunshine!"

This time, over two-thirds of the group raises their hands. Lindsay suspects that most simply see it unwise to disagree with the coach; after all, he _did_ choose Sunshine over Giselle.

"Giselle, you may have noticed that I appointed you as _temporary_ lead last week. Transitory, if you will. The moment I found somebody else more qualified, you were to go back to background vocals."

"Last year—" Giselle begins.

"Shelby Corcoran was your coach last year," Goolsby interrupts. "And though she may have seen something within you, I certainly don't. I see vocal talent in Sunshine. I see it in Lindsay. In fact, I see it in Andrea and Tiffany too. More than you."

Giselle's face is beet red. She looks like she's going to explode. Or implode. Or just cry.

"I hope you will not challenge my decisions in the future. After all, after Corcoran's resignation last year despite five straight years of Nationals victories, it is now my responsibility to continue her legacy. I am doing so to the best of my abilities, and my ability sensor doesn't go wild around you."

"Coach—" Giselle tries again.

"Please step off Sunshine's stage, Giselle," Coach Goolsby commands firmly.

Tears leak down Giselle's face as she walks, stumbles, and suddenly sprints out of the auditorium.

Nobody follows her.

* * *

><p>Abraham whoops, rushing towards Sunshine, wrapping his arms around her, and lifting her tiny body into the air easily. "You did it, girl! You beat Giselle! You did it!"<p>

It isn't until a second later that he realizes Sunshine is frozen. Blake leaps five feet straight up onto the stage while Aylin takes the long way around for the steps; both prepare to mob Sunshine, but they stop when Abraham motions them away. He grabs both of Sunshine's shoulders. "You okay, babe?" he asks in concern, staring into her shellshocked eyes. She can't really be feeling sorry for Giselle, can she?

"That girl," Sunshine murmurs. "Did Coach kick her out?"

"Kick her out of the club?" Blake clarifies. "He might as well have. '_Get off Sunshine's stage!_'" he barks in an impression of Goolsby's voice.

"You hear that?" Aylin bubbles. "He pretty much named you as lead of Vocal Adrenaline! He _loves_ you! We love you!" She ignores Abraham's warning and hugs Sunshine.

Sunshine seems to soften in the other girl's arms. "I feel terrible," she mumbles.

"Don't worry about it, Sunny," Aylin comforts, patting her head. "You haven't spent a couple hellfire months with her."

Abraham joins in on the hug. "Sunny, you did it, girl," he giggles, kissing her on the head. "You're incredible, you know?"

Sunshine seems to shiver at his touch and Abraham isn't sure why.

"Congrats, Sunshine," comes Lindsay's voice from behind their group.

Sunshine promptly frees herself from Aylin and Abraham's grasp and launches herself at Lindsay. "Lindsay!" Sunshine shrieks, wrapping her arms around the understudy. "Oh my gosh, I am _so_ glad you stepped in! You do not know just how terrible I was feeling up there, and then you came in… it means the world to me." She pops off Lindsay, grabs Abraham, and pulls the both of them into a hug. "You two, _thank you_ so much_._"

Lindsay smiles awkwardly at Abraham. Despite his position as the understudy for the entire semester, she didn't even acknowledge him until she was demoted to understudy last week. Seeing as there is the small possibility that he might play opposite to her, Abraham just grins back and wraps an arm around her as well, pulling her tighter into the group hug around Sunshine.

* * *

><p>School's out and Dani finds herself dreading every second as she walks towards the choir room.<p>

_You only commit suicide once… Your life's over after that…_

Dani steels herself. So what if she only met Damian yesterday. So what if she's sacrificing a lot for a cute Irish stranger. Whatever. She's a boundary pusher; she refuses to sit within the constricted borders of GIRL, so she scoops up some BOY too: in her choice of clothing and her mannerisms and her outlook. Screw all those people who conform to boundaries—Dani's a free spirit. She does what she wants.

So why is she practically shaking in her boots in front of the choir room?

_Boundary-pusher_, she reminds herself, pushing the door's room open.

Nobody's there. The room's lights aren't even on.

Dani pauses. She distinctly remembered Damian telling her last night that practices were usually held in the choir room. So why…

Footsteps clonk against the linoleum floor behind her, growing louder as they approach. Dani whirls around quickly and instinctively cringes at the sight of Noah Puckerman—resident bad boy of McKinley High and the guy who usually forces people of bottom social status into mandatory dumpster divings.

She almost runs. Where the Puckasaurus goes, a hoard of bullies usually follow. Puck spots her first though. "Yo! Looking for the Glee club? Get with the game, we've been practicing in the auditorium for the past week."

"Wha?"

"Wheels said he'd recruited some guys from the audio/visual club to help us out with staging and stuff." Puck saunters up to her, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Anybody else, or is it just you?"

Dani decides to play along; she'd much rather pose as AV help than as a socially suicidal Glee club member. "Uh, yeah, I think it's just me. I'm, um, taking Tyson's place. He went home sick."

Puck gestures down the hall. "Well, you know where to go then."

Dani waits, but apparently Puck is waiting for her to go first. How unusually chivalrous. Dani's just slightly suspicious, but she heads down the hallway first. Puck falls into step next to her.

"So I don't remember ever seeing you around," Puck says smoothly. "You've just moved in?"

Dani grimaces inwardly at the _flirt_ embedded in his voice. Does he not remember tossing her in the dumpster five weeks ago? Though she _has_ gotten a haircut since then. But really, shouldn't he be able to recognize her just by looking at her face, after going to the same school with her for the past ten years? In second grade, he pushed her off the wrong side of the slide—a twelve foot drop that broke her arm. In third grade, he nailed her in the face with a pee balloon. In fifth grade, he skateboarded right into her and convinced everybody that it was her fault that she got in his way.

In sixth grade, they dated. Dani's still not sure why. It didn't really matter though, because he dumped her two weeks later when she shaved her head to support a friend going through chemotherapy.

In seventh grade, he mistook her for a boy and gave her a swirlie. She'd freaked out all the boys crammed in the toilet stall that she'd sue them for sexual harassment, and that was the last time Azimio or Karofsky or Finn touched her.

Well, at least Puck recognizes that she's a girl this time. Even if she's not wearing the most girly outfit—tight jeans and a hoodie. The hoodie's a bit small though—maybe Puck spotted her chest.

"We went to preschool together," Dani smirks, not making eye contact with him. Communicate disinterest and he'll go away.

Puck grabs her shoulder and forces her to face him, searching her face. "…Dani?"

"Bingo," Dani mutters, breaking free. "Let me just—"

"No, I'm just surprised. Dani, what—"

Dani slides into the auditorium ahead of Puck. "Whatever, we'll talk about it later," she says dismissively. A bunch of kids are sitting on the edge of the stage; she recognizes Finn Hudson instantly, along with Santana Lopez, Kurt Hummel, Tina Cohen-Chang, and Rachel Berry. These are the people who have lived in Lima pretty much all their lives; they're people who Dani went to kindergarten with.

And then there's Mike Chang, Brittany Pierce, and Hannah McSomething, people who moved to the tiny Ohio town in elementary school and made friends pretty quickly. Quinn Fabray and Mercedes Jones didn't arrive till junior high, and Sam Evans, Matheus, and Damian just transferred this year.

Funny how Dani knows of all their existences, even knows when they arrived in Lima, Ohio… but she hasn't really ever _talked_ to any of them.

She spots Damian right away, the tall boy standing in the center of the stage next to Quinn, looking ready to burst into song. Pursing her lips—she'd really hoped that she'd be able to talk to Damian quickly and go catch up with the other guys in the AV club—Dani slinks to the back of the auditorium, into a dark corner, and settles for looking for any lonely people.

Dani immediately focuses in on Sam; he was Santana's most recent boyfriend, though the Cheerio has been openly flirting again, which probably means she recently dumped him. Sam's apparently got a great body, plus he'd been the quarterback for a couple months before Finn stole back his position. He'd also dated Quinn at the beginning of the year. Yeah, Sam would go well with Brittany, and their relationship would lead to a status boost for Sam—dating all three members of the Unholy Trinity would definitely bring Sam up on the social ladder. Dani stores this thought away carefully.

Dani doesn't know much about Matheus; he's never been as popular as Sam, but he's stood out before of his lack of height. The guy looks downright depressed, though; apparently, his equally short rumored love interest recently moved away, which means that Matheus is either hanging onto the missing girl tightly or desperately in need for somebody else to love. Dani ranks this as a second, maybe third possibility. Brittany isn't the best cure for heartbreak, but she definitely knows how to cheer people up—her bubbly personality naturally spreads happiness through everybody she comes in contact with.

Artie's been alone ever since Tina dumped him for dancy-pants Mike Chang, but the wheelchair-bound nerd's made up the lack of a relationship with an increased involvement in the AV club. Still, he might appreciate another girl in his life. Though Dani's not sure how he'll manage if Brittany tries to further their relationship in bed. Can he even…?

Hmm… it's a hard choice. If it really comes down to it, Dani could direct Puck towards Brittany. Though Santana might get a little bitchy at that… unless they banded together for a threesome…

Dani was thinking more along the lines that Santana wouldn't appreciate her usual man sleeping with her best friend, but she's heard rumors that Santana and Brittany have spent a couple intimate moments together. Plus, there's always the obvious fact that Brittany doesn't care about gender, period. Are there any lonely girls in the New Directions?

Rachel's standing off by herself, looking rather forlorn; as the self-appointed leader of the New Directions, it must really suck that Damian and Quinn are stealing her spotlight, and Rachel makes this resentment quite obvious by never taking her eyes off… Quinn? Dani stows away this observation for later thought and reasons that Rachel's usual supercilious attitude and no-crap stance on life wouldn't be the best fit for Brittany.

Alright, time to play matchmaker.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_This has been the worst first week of school. I'm sniffling like a sad snuffaluffagus, my throat feels like it's made of sandpaper, I'm cold all the time even though it's 80 degrees Fahrenheit outside, my head won't stop hurting, my sneezes are much more explosive than usual, and the entire time my professors are dumping information all over me and I'm not really absorbing it. Oh, and I have to take an exam tomorrow. AN EXAM ON THE FIRST WEEK OF SCHOOL._

_This semester is going to be a helluva ride. One or two exams every week. _

_But finally: an update! And please check out my tumblr at **inkbenderfic. tumblr. com (slash) writing** for the interactive Glee Project story that I can't post here, in which YOU choose your own adventure._


	53. Chess Moves I

No matter how much Emily pleads, flirts, and moans about her math homework, Cameron refuses to do every problem for her.

"I'm a _tutor_," he gasps in exasperation for what must be the fifth time. "I'm supposed to help you _learn_."

"But hun, I already know long division," Emily gushes. "You could make things go so much faster if you worked out problems #10-15 while I do #7-9."

Cameron shakes his head firmly. "Here, I'll guide you through the steps—"

Emily glances at the clock. "Caaaameron," she wails. "There's only half an hour left till curfew. Matron will kick you out and I'll fail math! Pleeeeeeeease, you have to help me, hun!"

Cameron sighs. "You spent an hour chatting up Blaine and Sebastian and Kurt with Lily Mae when you could have—"

Emily's eyes shine briefly before the dark pouting cloud steals its way across her features again. "I _had_ to talk about it with somebody, Cam-Cam," Emily whines. "A potential love triangle between two of the hottest Warblers and the new kid!"

Cameron doesn't insist that Lily Mae just happened to be the only girl who didn't run screaming for her life when Emily barked at any girl to come and listen to her spout the latest piece of juicy gossip. And that the girl, while nodding and grunting at all the appropriate times, spent most of her time staring at her feet, her lips pressed tight together. Apparently Emily had been rather desperate to _not_ do math or was otherwise completely oblivious to the larger girl's emotional turbulence, because the Latina just kept talking and talking until Lily Mae had finally left Emily in the middle of her Blaine diatribe.

"Emily," he sighs, glancing at the clock. He doesn't know why Emily's parents keep paying him to tutor the girl even when she spends most of her time chattering away. "We might as well make the most of the time we have left—"

Emily suddenly sweeps all her sheets of work, her textbook, even her pencil case off the table. She grins sweetly at his shocked expression and leans forward conspiratorially. "Alright, Cam," she drawls, her words lathered in sugar so sweet it makes Cameron's teeth hurt at just the sound. "Let's make the most of our time."

Cameron leans away nervously. With everything he's supposed to be teaching her now all over the floor, he has nothing to do but participate in whatever act she's pulling. "Emily, your parents are paying me to—"

Emily just leans forward even more. "Cameron, Cameron, Cameron… my parents give me the money, and _I_ pay you. Now Cameron… do you have a girl in your life?"

Cameron's mind briefly shuts down.

And then it speeds back to life at a hundred miles per hour.

Emily's single; she broke up with David a couple weeks ago. Even since then, all she's ever talked about are boys, boys, boys. And not necessarily dating material, either; she's peppered Cameron with plenty of questions about Blaine and Sebastian and have they gotten back together yet? She's reinstated herself as the school's gossip monger—the girl who knows _everything_ about _everyone_. Even Marissa, Hannah, and Damian have trickled down the gossip vine towards Emily; the Latina knows a surprising amount about Damrissa (Emily's nickname, not his) fake relationship and Project GCAMBT. So Emily knows he's been single for a while…

She can't really be hitting on him… can she?

And then a voice echoing through the library lifts his spirits significantly. "Cameron! Ack, Emily, if I'd known there were going to be guys here, I'd have dressed better…"

Cameron's eyes land on Shanna and his heart sort of does this little jig up his chest and gets stuck in his throat. She's wearing loose pajama pants with an unbuttoned dress shirt over a tight white tank top. She's looks like she just stepped out of the shower and is wearing glasses, and she's holding a stack of what look like to be old history books.

Cameron chokes his heart back down to its proper place, his eyes darting away from Shanna's face to Emily's, just to look somewhere else.

Uh oh. Emily looks resentful. She might actually have had something for him. Is that why she's kept paying him to come over and tutor her every Wednesday for two hours, even though she's usually spent ¾ of the time talking at him? The thought is slightly disturbing.

Though there's something else on Emily's face: sly, shrewd, calculating.

Then all of that is wiped away as Emily rises to her feet and hugs Shanna, exclaiming, "Shanna! You know Cam-Cam?"

Shanna blushes slightly as she lays her books on their table and takes Emily's hand into her own. "Cameron and I have been going to the same church for almost six months now, but we just met a couple days ago."

Six months… Cameron did not know that.

"So what are you two doing here?" Shanna asks, rounding the table to sit next to Emily—until she spots the materials strewn all over the ground. "Oh my goodness!" she gasps, immediately crouching down and gathering up pencils. "What happened?"

Emily waves her hand dejectedly. "Shanna, I'll clean it up later," she groans, her demeanor swinging from excited to sullen in half a second flat. "I'm just… I'm just a little—"

Shanna immediately slides into the car next to Emily, one arm rubbing the Latina's back. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do it," Emily mumbles. "I'm going to fail math. I've spent two hours going over this and I _still _don't get it."

Shanna shoots Cameron an _I thought you were supposed to be helping her _look. Cameron shrugs and gestures with his hands in an _I'm trying but she isn't_ action.

"Just keep working on it, Em," Shanna says soothingly, the palm of her hand rubbing small circles on the other girl's back. "You'll get it eventually." Emily just sighs dismally, so Shanna presses a quick kiss to the girl's temple. Emily doesn't react to this; it seems like Shanna does this all the time.

And then, out of nowhere, a large lady with a wrinkled face and beady eyes materializes from behind a bookshelf, carrying a large yardstick. With a screech of fury, she brings the wooden stick down on Cameron's back with a loud SMACK that stings like crazy. Cameron's yelp is drowned out by the lady's hiss: "Now what are you doing here, young man? It's thirty seconds past curfew!" She raises her yardstick again. "You should have been—"

Shanna's suddenly by his side, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of his seat while Emily stands between him and the matron. The two make their escape out of the library, without Cameron's messenger bag. "Wait!" Cameron barks, trying to stop. "I left my—"

"Trust me," Shanna whisper-yells, "You do not want to be around Matron Jackson now; she _will_ whip you into tomorrow with that yardstick!"

"Tomorrow's in two hours," Cameron pants. "I need my bag."

"You need your life more." Shanna suddenly pulls him into down a hallway that _definitely _was not the way towards the front doors. In fact, it seems more like she's pulling him in the opposite direction.

"Whoa, wait a minute—"

"Front doors are locked with a motion sensor alarm," Shanna explains quickly. "The matrons are making sure that nobody gets in _or out_ after 10. They're cracking down hard on anybody they can get!"

Cameron's insides freeze. Why hadn't he kept track of time… why hadn't Emily warned him? Had she been planning on keeping him around, and if so, why?

They're racing down hallways lined with doors—bedroom doors. Wh… what? "Shanna!"

"Fire escape," Shanna says shortly, pointing to a window at the end of the hall. "Go."

"I feel like I'm escaping from the scene of a crime," Cameron mutters as he runs up to the window, pulls up the pane, and sticks his head out. Sure enough, there's a metal grating there with a staircase leading down to the ground, right next to the parking lot.

Shanna's hand rests on his shoulder as he slides out the window. "I'll go collect your things out of the matron's office tomorrow morning and bring them to you," she whispers as Cameron finds his feet on the fire escape. "I am _so_ sorry about this. I don't know why Emily…" She shakes her head. "Never mind. You need to get out of here before Matron Jackson cracks your head open with her yardstick."

Cameron pauses on the grate. "Thanks, Shanna."

"See you tomorrow," she smiles softly, sliding the window pane shut.

* * *

><p>Hannah's heart sort of drops through the floor when she spots Quinn standing in front on McKinley High.<p>

Earlier this afternoon, Mr. Schue had picked out a couple people—Damian, Finn, Puck, Mercedes, Artie, and herself truly—for an evening dance boot camp, just to smooth out the wrinkles. Mike and Brittany were also arriving to help, and an AV girl called Dani had agreed to come along as well. Hannah had enthusiastically decided to show up early so she could get in extra practice time.

Quinn didn't need to come. Which meant that she's here for the Talk.

Hannah plasters on a happy face as Quinn unfolds her arms and approaches her. "Quinn? Are you here to help Damian?"

Quinn smiles faintly, but her eyes are a little too hard. "We need to talk," the blonde says firmly. "You've been avoiding me."

Hannah's weak façade falls apart instantly. "I'm… I'm sorry—"

"No, I get it," Quinn says quickly. "But you need to confront this problem. Especially since we'll be seeing him in a couple days. He is our competition for Sectionals, after all." She hooks her arm in Hannah's and steers her towards an empty corner of the courtyard. Hannah follows reluctantly.

They sit down at a cold metal table across from each other. Quinn folds her hands primly and leans forward. "You still have his glasses, don't you?"

Hannah wordlessly reaches into her messenger bag and pulls out Cameron's fake glasses. She delicately lays it on the tabletop between them, like an offering.

"Just talk to him," Quinn urges. "I swear, by waiting and wishing, you're hurting yourself more than just by telling him outright."

"Marissa—"

"Is dating some stupid boy from Vocal Adrenaline."

"He still—"

"He's putting his heart on the line by waiting for her," Quinn interrupts yet again. "Hannah, I want you to take him out for coffee. Spend some time with him, let him know. And if he still doesn't catch on, bring out the glasses. Tell him outright. Then we can get this wishy-washy waiting over with."

"Sectionals is in three days!" Hannah exclaims.

"Ask him out in two days then!" Quinn sighs, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Or afterwards! Or _during_ the competition! Hannah, take control of this situation! Don't let Cameron bat you around like you're _nothing—_make sure he _knows_ you're there, you're available, and you're taking him if he so pleases. Or just fight for him."

Hannah purses her lips in fright. Taking him? Does Quinn have any connotations behind that? "Quinn, what do you mean by—"

Quinn's on a roll now, though, and she cuts right across Hannah again. "Hannah, you need to be a player in the game. High school relationships is a rough board, but you'll be so much happier as a player than as a pawn. I mean it." Quinn's posture becomes a little more regal, her tone a bit more authoritative.

Hannah, on the other hand, just sinks into her seat. Obviously, Quinn is _the_ player. The queen bee of the board. And Hannah herself… just another disposable piece. It makes her almost hate herself: for standing in the background and letting everybody do their own thing and being the good friend and stuff.

For being so weak. Quinn's right; Hannah is the pawn, willingly sacrificing herself so the rook or knight or whatever chess piece can go in for the king.

But that's how Hannah's defined herself as a person in the past: as a supportive friend. The shoulder to cry on, the one to laugh at every joke, the girl full of smiles and hugs and love. Never in the center of attention herself, always a person on the perimeter.

"Trust me," Quinn continues. "I've been both sides. I've been… I was…" Quinn's voice slumps briefly. "At my old school, I was a different person. A lot like you; I was even a redhead back in elementary. And I was the bottom of the social ladder. I had no control over my life; other people ran it for me and they abused it. So when my dad was promoted and we moved here, I changed things up." Quinn's voice returns to full prideful strength. "I made sure I entered at the top, even though I started at the bottom as a random transfer student."

Hannah cuts across Quinn's tirade. "Quinn, I really appreciate what you're saying, but I don't see how this applies to me. I don't care about becoming more popular. I love my current friends. I don't need—"

Hannah's voice dies away as she catches the icy fury raging in Quinn's eyes. Just one second, though; a single blink and Quinn's expression is absolutely neutral again. Her hands clasp Hannah's. "Don't let other people push you around. Cameron, Marissa, even me—everything we do in our own lives affects yours. And if you don't push back at us, we might accidently push you to the floor and walk all over you. Let us know that you need to take care of your own needs and we'll give you a bit more space. Damian didn't know how you felt about Cameron, so he appointed you the head of that Guh-Cambit-Project-Thingy. They all didn't know, so they shuffled you down that path without even thinking about how you felt about the entire thing."

Hannah doesn't say anything. She needs to think.

"Hannah!" Damian's voice calls. Hannah's head swivels around and catches the sight of Damian holding a school door open for her. "Was wondering where you went. Boot camp's about to start."

Hannah glances back at Quinn; the queen player looks like she's not ready to end the conversation yet. Hannah leans forward, whispering, "Thanks, Quinn. I'll… I'll think about it."

She gets up to leave, then remembers Cameron's glasses at the last second and reaches for them. Quinn's hand snaps down on Hannah's as the redhead's fingers close around the black frame. "It doesn't even have to be a date. Just a conversation between the two of you."

Hannah nods, flustered, and darts towards Damian and the open door. As she brushes past the Irish teenager, he asks, "What was that about? I didn't know Quinn—"

"She just… she just wanted to talk," Hannah mutters. It occurs to her that, by forcing her into that conversation, Quinn was pushing her around as well. But what she said about Damian... that was true as well. Damian, Sunshine, Matheus, Tina, and Mike didn't mean to, but it's only because they didn't know.

Hannah turns to face Damian as he lets the door swing shut. He notices late, but once he meets her eyes and serious expression, he stops in his tracks. "What's up?" he asks somewhat insecurely.

Hannah takes in a huge breath. Releases it. Stands her ground. Prepares herself… "Project GCAMBT is over."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Well, it's the answer to The Big Question all you readers have been asking. Hannah, the girl who headed Project GCAMBT, is now out of the game. Though Emily might have a word or three to say..._

_But hey, if you want your Camrissa fix, head over to the choose-your-own-adventure story over at my tumblr. I just posted a chapter with Marissawesomeness. BAM. Neither Cameron nor Damian were expecting it._

_So: second week of school, DONE. Much better this week than last (especially the not-needing-to-throw-up-NOW part), though seriously? Shit's about to go **down**. Like, school-related shit. That, and I've found other ways to occupy my recreational time... like Chrono Trigger on my Android phone, and going-out nights, and reading novels, and you know, the occasional three-hour nap to make up for the sleep I'm NOT getting during my late-night "crap-homework's-due-TOMORROW?" cram parties._

_Sort of like the cram party for the quiz-I-didn't-know-about I'm about to begin now, as soon as I post this chapter._

_I forgot to give kudos to the answers of the character cameos I did back in chapter 50!  
><em>

**Toph Beifong** – Avatar: The Last Airbender  
><strong>Cho Chang<strong> – Harry Potter (I guess she could be from "A Very Potter Musical" too...)  
><strong>Claire Farron<strong> – Final Fantasy XIII (this is her REAL name; the name she calls herself is Lightning)  
><strong>Thalia Grace<strong> – Percy Jackson and the Olympians  
><strong>Kain Highwind<strong> – Final Fantasy IV  
><strong>Orihime Inoue<strong> - Bleach  
><strong>Tifa Lockhart<strong> – Final Fantasy VII  
><strong>Gary Oak<strong> - Pokemon  
><strong>Winry Rockbell<strong> – Fullmetal Alchemist  
><strong>Neku Sakuraba<strong> – The World Ends With You  
><strong>Turtle kidnapping princess<strong> – Super Mario Bros  
><strong>Fending off living shadows with an oversized key<strong> – Kingdom Hearts  
><strong>Giselle?<strong> - wouldn't you like to know...

**_polarpi:_**_ 1 point!  
><strong>cowboy-mcginty<strong>: 1 point!  
><strong>marcalus:<strong> 2 points!  
><strong>perfectlyODD:<strong> 2 points!  
><strong>xoxButterflysTornadoxox: <strong>2 points!  
><em>_**rmya55**: 3 points!  
><strong>pjato-lover<strong>: 3 points!_  
><em><strong>SPEEEEEEAK<strong>:__4 points!  
><strong>Forever Gleek2000<strong>**: **4 points!  
><em>_**ShortLittlePixie:** 4 points!  
><em>_**xxBlaineXKurtxx:** 5 points!  
><strong>SallyRide19<strong>: 5 points!  
><em>_**Mary in the Stars: **5 points!  
><em>_**xxNam-niCxxx**: 12 points! (I think I love this girl.)  
><strong>littlemissmusicdummy<strong>: 14 points!  
><em>

_- **inkbender**, posted at 2:10 AM. (Seriously, you guys can't say that I'm not updating frequently enough, because, from my viewpoint, I'm taking out a fair chunk of my week to write these chapters.)_


	54. Chess Moves II

The new guy, Kurt, is a natural when it comes to sexy and suave.

Only when he isn't trying, though.

Currently, Kurt has the strangest expression plastered to his face—maybe in a Japanese retirement home, his puckered lips and wrinkled forehead might be considered a major turn-on, but really, it looks like he swallowed a lemon or three.

"You know what, Kurt?" Sebastian finally calls, stopping the music issuing from his CD player. "Let's just go back to the steps. No need to try any of," he swirls his finger around his face, "this."

Kurt nods once.

Sebastian positions himself next to Kurt, huffing in exertion. Even with the AC going full blast, it feels like the common room of their suite is burning up. On a last minute whim, he sheds his dress shirt and proceeds to instruct Kurt in his thin, sweaty wife beater. "So on the second beat, lunge forward and balance all your weight on your right foot—"

The front door slams open at this point, admitting their third suitemate. "Holy hell, it is _hot_ in here!" Alex exclaims, fanning himself as the heat trapped in their common room rolls past him into the hallway. He then notices Sebastian and his eyes glance appreciatively over Sebastian's muscled frame. "Hel_lo_, hottie."

"Have you practiced the choreography at all?" Sebastian asks, stepping away from Kurt.

Alex leaves the dorm door open and strides over to the window. "Seriously, babe, it's like you're _trying_ to make this place into a steamy sauna." He throws the window open, creating steady ventilation from the door to the window, tosses his blazer onto the couch, and fans himself with a delicate hand.

"The air conditioner's on," Sebastian grunts.

"AC ain't helpin' your case, babe," Alex croons, settling on an armchair next to the CD player. "Now let me see your moves."

Sebastian sighs in exasperation; Alex knows his overtly playful flirting annoys Sebastian to no end, which is exactly why he does it. He might also be breaking Kurt into this new environment; despite Dalton Academy not being an exclusively all-gay school, due to its no-bullying policy, there are quite a few deviants in its halls.

Especially in Windsor House.

"Could you knock it off, Alex?" Sebastian barks. "Sectionals are less than 75 hours away. I need to concentrate on getting Kurt up to speed, and _you_ need to deliver an amazing performance with that choreography we went over a couple hours ago."

Alex waves this instruction off. "I've already got it down. I just want to see—"

"Mind your own business," Kurt bites, all his pent-up irritations at Alex's condescending and arrogant behavior for the past 24 hours spilling into his speech. "And I'll mind mine."

Alex's eyebrows rise in offense, but he says nothing. He fixes Kurt with a cool gaze as he rises from the armchair, grabs his blazer, and marches into his room.

The first day of living in the suite and a diva-off has already gone down. Sebastian mentally bangs his head against a mental wall. Oh god, of all the suitemates…

"Whew, who turned up the heat in here?" the final (and only sane) suitemate announces as he travels his way into the common room, his walking stick bumping against the doorway. "I'm sensing angry hot vibes. And some hot movement." His pale eyes swivel around the room, and even though he can't see with them, they still land on Sebastian and Kurt standing in the middle of the room. "Um… I'm going to go with Angry Dance."

"No Angry Sex today, Mario," Sebastian grins faintly. "Just last minute choreography for Kurt."

Mario nods. "And a diva-off with Alex? Great, I'll just disappear in my room. Night." He hobbles over to his single bedroom and shuts the door.

Sebastian turns back to Kurt, who's standing there with a blank expression on his face. "Right," Sebastian says, getting back to business. "Let's go over that again…"

* * *

><p>Dance boot camp. Ugh.<p>

No matter how many times Mercedes tries, she hasn't been able to keep up with the rest of the club. Today is just a really, really bad day. Mr. Schue has been congratulating _Damian_ for hitting all the right moves, for heaven's sake, yet has only told her to improve upon that, maybe do this instead, yada yada yada. She seriously can't be this terrible, can she? She's been here longer than anybody else here, save Artie; how can they be outstripping her?

"Mr. Schue, I think I'm going to throw up," she finally lies. She just needs to get out of the room, compose herself, maybe practice in the hallway without Mr. Schue's and Brittany's and Mike's eyes on her, judging her, and then come back in and show them all.

Yes. That's what she's going to do.

Mr. Schue looks properly concerned, excusing her right away. She walks out of the auditorium slowly, passing her bag on the way—is that her phone ringing?

Never one to pass up on her social networking, she heads for her bag. But then she realizes that if she grabs her phone right now, and if somebody sees her, they'll think she's just trying to skip out on the grueling dance practice. In short, being stupid and lazy.

She fights internally before grabbing her phone anyways. Just a quick check. That's all.

She walks quickly into the hall and heads straight for the bathroom. That way, assuming that the New Directions are the only people in the school currently, only Hannah might stumble upon her "slacking off." Which she totally isn't.

It's just a text message from Tina. Strange; they're friends alright, two of the original members of the New Directions, and they have so many shared experiences. Moral support at times, when high school becomes just a little too much. But they're not really friends beyond that. Mercedes hasn't ever texted Tina, or Mike, or Artie or Damian or Finn outside of Glee practice.

The text is a phone number, followed by simple sentences: _Sunshine needs help—I think she's falling for a VA lead. _

Emergency bells go off in Mercedes' head. Sunshine's only been gone for a couple days and she's getting a crush on one of their greatest competition? What happened to pulling a Jesse St. James?

Seeing as Tina's text was sent almost an hour ago, Mercedes quickly calls back. Tina picks up on the third ring. "Mercedes?"

"Are you sure it's not the other way?" Mercedes asks right away. "I thought she was supposed to be faking a relationship!"

"I don't know!" Tina cries. "She just called me up, asking about this boy. I thought… well, just her tone when she was talking about him—"

"Hold up, girl," Mercedes interrupts. "She was asking _you_ about him? Do you know him? Do _we_ know him?"

"Okay, let me back up. No, I don't know him; Sunshine just wanted my opinion on him. She's not sure if he's straight or not."

Mercedes blinks. Oh. Now she knows why Tina called. Mercedes had gone through this exact same experience at the beginning of last year. Well, except that time, she hadn't been as smart as Sunshine, and had thought that Kurt was straight.

She mentally bangs her head against a mental wall a couple times. How the _hell_ had she believed that boy was straight? And fallen for Kurt's weak lie when he said he was in love with Rachel (and Finn had been standing right next to her)?

"You didn't tell her that he was probably gay?" Mercedes says flatly.

"I… I don't know," Tina repeats. "Sunshine says… well, could you call her and listen to what she has to say about him? I told her that you were in dance boot camp. By the way, aren't you in dance boot camp?"

"Never mind that," Mercedes says dismissively. "This is much, much more important. We can't have Sunshine defecting over to Vocal Adrenaline for real. I'll just call her right now."

Tina sounds worried, but she agrees. They hang up, and Mercedes calls Sunshine right away, steeling herself. Sunshine had proven that she could be a powerhouse, and Mercedes regrets that they hadn't seen it earlier. Nevertheless, Sunshine cannot go to Vocal Adrenaline.

No matter what Sunshine says, Mercedes has to establish that the boy's not interested in her.

"Hello?"

"Sunshine? Tina told me to call you. How's it going?"

"Thank you so much for calling," Sunshine states rather formally. Then again, Sunshine had last departed on not-very-good terms, so she'd expect things to be a little tense. Which wouldn't do for a heart-to-heart.

"Sunshine, hun, you're still a part of our New Directions family," Mercedes says warmly, and she surprises herself when she realizes that she means it. "If you need help, I'm here."

Sunshine pauses. "Um… well. So the guy that I'm striking up a possible friendship with… I think he might not… I don't think he's straight."

Mercedes has a straight reply. "Seduce another guy. An obviously straight one who has the hots for you."

Sunshine's voice comes out with a hint of distress, and that's when Mercedes realizes that yes, this is probably really serious, and that she should tread carefully. "We have great chemistry," Sunshine defends. "He recruited a couple of his friends to help me move in the first time I met him, and then he gave me dance lessons afterwards. He stood up for me when somebody else tried to tear me down. He wouldn't stand up in front of the whole team for anybody, right? And he's really touchy. Oh god, I feel awkward telling you this."

"From what you've said before," Mercedes says cautiously, "This guy…"

"Abraham."

"Abraham… he sounds like a good friend. Okay, who you decide to fake a relationship is your choice. But really, Sunshine, the best person you should choose for a fake relationship is someone you shouldn't be emotionally invested in. You know what I mean? Because that defeats the purpose of a Jesse St. James. You want to break his heart, remember? Not the other way around."

Sunshine's silent for a while. Mercedes decides to move to the main problem.

"Tina tells me you're not sure if he's gay or not. Tina knows I have personal experience with this, so 'fess up. What's making you suspicious, hun?"

"…His style of clothes. Bright colors. He has red pants to match his red Korean hair."

"Wait, what? Korean hair?" Mercedes has no idea what this is.

"Long and swept up into spikes with hair gel, just very carefully sculpted. And his bangs are hot red."

"Okay. What else?"

"The way he acts, the way he walks… and he talks like you."

"Whoa, hun, wait a minute. How do I talk?"

"Wait, hun, how do I talk?" Sunshine twitters in a terrible imitation, but Mercedes gets it and laughs out loud. Sunshine continues, "Girl, you've got _fire_ in you. I know you can do it, babe!"

Mercedes contemplates this. A sassy Asian man… hmmm… "And you said he was touchy?"

"The first time I met him, he hugged me. He touched my shoulder when talking to me. He held me close while dancing. He slapped one of his female friend's ass."

GAYDAR DING DING DING.

Sunshine finishes, "And she didn't even care. Well, she blushed, but that was it."

Everything points to gay. Mercedes doesn't even have to try. "I'm sorry to tell you this," Mercedes says softly, "But what kind of girl lets a guy get away with manhandling unless she _knows for certain_ that he's never going to go farther than an affectionate ass-slap?"

Sunshine doesn't say anything, but the silence says everything: Sunshine really likes this boy. And that's trouble. Because Sunshine _can't_ get all buddy-buddy at Vocal Adrenaline. The girl's supposed to break them down come Regionals!

A poorly thrown-together idea worms its way into Mercedes' mind: what better to turn Sunshine against Vocal Adrenaline than heartbreak? It's a risky move that might backfire because there's the tiny chance that this little white lie might actually be true (despite the loud noises that Mercedes' gaydar has been making ever since they embarked on this topic), but Mercedes hurriedly jumps into the idea anyways. "You know, maybe there might be an off-chance that he's metrosexual."

"What? What does that mean?"

Mercedes presses her lips together. Too late to turn back. She elaborates, "A metrosexual is a straight man who takes a passion to how he's dressed and behaved. Maybe Abraham just cares for what other people think of him and takes care of his image, like how he styles his hair and what he wears for the day."

Sunshine sounds hopeful. "So… he might be a… a good guy to, uh, start a… _fake_ relationship with?"

_No. From what you said, Abraham is a pretty much a 9.5 on the 1-to-10 gaydar. Unless Koreans rate things differently._ "Possibly," Mercedes says, almost hating herself for deliberately leading Sunshine down the wrong path. "Try it out, see where it takes you." _Choose somebody else. Don't break your own heart over an obviously gay man. Or _do_ break your heart, and make sure you tear Vocal Adrenaline down by the time you come back to us._

Sunshine sounds way too happy to even try to fake asking advice about a fake relationship. "Oh! Okay! So he might just be metrosexual, got it."

"Maybe," Mercedes cautions again in an attempt to make herself feel better. "You never know. Don't go breaking your own heart, Sunshine."

"Thanks, Mercedes! Thank you so much! Bye!"

_Click._

Mercedes isn't sure if that was her best idea. But she's been gone from dance boot camp for too long, so she hurries back to the auditorium.

She will simply have to Facebook-stalk this Abraham after boot camp.

* * *

><p>The more Brittany thinks about it, the more she wants to try it out.<p>

The girl running the electronics in the back of the auditorium had told her that, although Artie was the captain of the audio-visual club, no, he could not plug himself into the computer and just tell it what to do. He wasn't actually a robot at all.

That had completely stopped the gears in Brittany's mind.

And then they were back to whirring with a hundred different questions. So he was actually detachable from his wheels? Santana had called him Wheels, so that's all I thought he was. Would he turn off if you took him out of his wheelchair, flopping over like a rag doll? He could work without his wheelchair? He's actually human? Then why don't his legs work? What broke them in the first place? Did he spill water on them? I once spilled alphabet soup all over my cell phone, but that didn't send any text messages. In fact, my phone didn't send any sort of messages at all after that. Or do anything, period. It's still like a little brick that lights up with random colors sometimes. See? Isn't it pretty?

"Oh, that's nice," Dani agrees. "But about Artie…"

Oh wait, so he's like me, except a guy? So does that mean he has a—

"YES," Dani almost shouts. "YES, HE DOES." The girl-who-looks-like-a-boy then quickly slams a hand over her mouth as if that could call back her accidental yell.

Oh. Well in that case, Brittany could probably sex him up.

Though it might be a little difficult in the wheelchair. And what if we started rolling downhill? It would be like sex on a roller coaster! But then again, he could be taken out of the wheelchair and still work; he's not a robot. So he'd probably be okay on a bed, right? I've topped plenty of times before, I think we could make it work. But wait, if his legs don't work, wouldn't that mean that, since it's right between his legs, it wouldn't not work either?

Dani just gives her that blank look that Brittany's pretty used to getting.

Brittany will just have to test this, then, using the tried and true method experimentation: "Stand back… I am going to do science!"

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_An affectionate ass-slap. Riiight._

_So I've mercilessly killed the plot bunny begging for superpowered Glee Project members. Why? Because I remembered I already had a story with superpowers! Head over to __**Electric Shock**__ if a family of season 2 Gleeks growing up together from four years old to those teenage years, all while dealing with a variety of electric-based powers, strikes your fancy. Because it certainly strikes mine. _

_Don't worry, though; __**Glee Project: Live Out Loud**__ and my choose-your-own-adventure story over at my tumblr are still my top priority and will be preferentially updated._

_Damn, I'm writing a lot._

_Thanks for reading! Please leave a review! _


	55. Chess Moves III

_A/N: Posted early to celebrate the Season 4 premiere (and also because I had a little free time...)_

_ Is anybody still reading this? I know my update schedule is getting pretty funky with school, but, for the last chapter, there was only one review... and all it said was "Blaylin. Now." Which left me pretty disappointed. I love it when reviewers talk about the story or what they think is coming up next or leave suggestions—not so much when the only words are "Update soon or I will die" or "please ship X and Y together or I will die." _

_Well, I wrote out this quick wrap-up anyways. I just want to finally move onto Sectionals, and I want to hear from you guys! (Also, sorry to the reviewer, but this is a New Directions arc, with pre-Sectionals, Sectionals, and post-Sectionals. It's going to be a while before we hear from Vocal Adrenaline again.)_

* * *

><p>McKynleigh jumps when pebbles ping against her window.<p>

Who…? She rises from her laptop without thinking and glances out the window onto the street. There's a figure standing out there, guitar slung around his shoulders. "Miki!" he calls.

McKynleigh's heart drops. No. Nope. She's avoided him for a full day, even when he suddenly showed up in the halls of Carmel High, following the dreadlocked Samuel around. She'd set Lindsay and Kay and even her most recent friends, Aylin and Blake, on watch, steering her away should they ever see the guy in the straw cowboy hat.

Which meant that the rumor had spread pretty quickly: McKynleigh's avoiding the hot new hunk traversing the halls. And obviously the hot new cowboy hunk knew her in a past life and still has a thing for her, because he's ignoring all the other girls who've been hitting on him the moment he stepped into the halls.

So much unwanted attention. So many people drawing random connections between them. Too much trouble, and right before Sectionals.

She can't deal with this. Not right now. She'll talk to Maxfield after Sectionals. Or after Regionals. Or maybe never. She's avoided him for this long, right?

She's lived her life just fine without Maxfield, though his promise ring has lingering around, hiding in the bottom of a box full of other old possessions. And as much as she'd initially loved him and had missed every single second that he wasn't there with her, she'd eventually discovered the opportunity for a whole new life here in Ohio. You only live once, after all, and McKynleigh had taken that to heart.

When they moved, she cut off all connection with him and established new relationships here in Carmel. She'd gotten a new boyfriend—Bryce—and through him, connected instantly with the workings of the city, the places to hang out and have fun. She'd joined theater, taken up photography, wrote for the school newspaper, made friends from show choir and athletics alike. Along the way, she'd found out a whole bunch of things she'd never known about herself. She was able to break free from the personal boundaries she'd set around herself as _Max's girlfriend_ and live a new life, one free from connections and expectations that had been holding her down. _Her_ life.

Then she'd joined Vocal Adrenaline, and that had sucked away her time**—**but at least _she_ had chosen to give it up, and she enjoyed it thoroughly.

And she still does. She really doesn't have time for Maxfield now. Not when she's still got to process photos for the sports section of the school newspaper tomorrow, and Sectionals is coming up next week, and there's a basketball game next Thursday night.

She briefly slides open her window and pokes her head out. "Hi Max," she says. A powerful wave of emotion suddenly sweeps over her. Goodness, she's missed him. Never mind that, though, she corrects herself. No time for a person in her life. No time for a full-time commitment to another person.

"McKynleigh…" Max rumbles, his voice deep and husky. "I've missed you."

McKynleigh's heart does a couple backflips. "Max… now's not a good time."

Stunned silence.

"I have a major competition in a couple days and I still have school newspaper stuff to sort through," she says firmly. "We'll talk about this… about us… in two weeks. Goodnight." She slides her window shut and draws the curtains, but not before catching the heartbroken look on Maxfield's face.

The next two weeks are not going to be easy.

* * *

><p><em>Flashing lights. Red blue red blue.<em>

_She can't breathe. She's lying in a pool of something warm and sticky and it stains her fingers crimson in the lights and __**it's not her own.**_

_Droplets of cold water splash on her face. She thinks she's crying—in agony, in fear—but she really doesn't know. She's so cold. Twisted metal, torn fabric, broken glass. Her seatbelt cuts into her skin. Somebody's screaming, a thin, high, reedy wail of pain. She's too busy choking on her sobs to perceive much else. Maybe it's Alyssa or Ali. Maybe it's herself._

_Flashing lights fade into darkness. _

Lily Mae sits up straight in bed, a scream lodged in her throat. A dark silhouette is crouched next to her bed, and for a horrible second, Lily thinks it's Ali, her slender runner's legs bent at all the wrong angles… or Alyssa, ruptured organs, punctured lungs, gasping for breath in a puddle of her own—

Her bedside lamp flickers on, revealing Shanna. Without a word, Lily just leans her head against her roommate's shoulder and lets the tears fall.

* * *

><p>By midnight, Kurt's got the basic steps down. Sweat's pouring down his back—he'd changed from his dress shirt into a simple designed tee, but even <em>that<em> was too hot. Even with the windows open and the AC on full blast, a simple sheen of sweat shines on the curve of Sebastian's neck, on his tight shoulders, and on his biceps.

Yep, Sebastian's a looker. But that's about as far as it goes.

Anything Kurt might have felt was squashed the moment Sebastian started barking out orders. The Warbler choreographer is ten times more unforgiving than Mike, a hundred times stricter than Brittany was. Mike and Brittany and Mr. Schue were always positive reinforcers, people who laughed while they moved, who patiently explained this and this and that, there you go, you've got it! Sebastian, on the other hand, absolutely demands that Kurt follow the choreography step by step, without any room for freestyle or messing up. It has to be_ exactly_ on beat, he has to move his body _exactly_ like this. Nothing satisfies him; once Kurt improves, Sebastian just kicks his constructive criticisms up another notch, hitting nit-picky things and pointing out the tiniest of mistakes.

"We'll go over this tomorrow during rehearsal, when you'll be dancing with everybody. Everybody does exactly the same thing," Sebastian finishes at the end of their dance boot camp. "You need to absolutely perfect by Saturday. If you stand out, if you take a wrong step, if you mess up, the Warbler homogeneity is destroyed." Sebastian is almost foaming at the mouth at this point. "The entire performance is _ruined_. So seriously, get this down. Go over it again and again and we'll try again tomorrow."

Kurt nods. Gulps. Chugs down a bottle of water.

As soon as Sebastian sees that Kurt understands, he slides back into his other mode. Not the strict, on-track, totally focused choreographer; Sebastian adopts his usual collected, smirking meerkat face that Kurt instantly dislikes. "Great," Sebastian simpers. "Can't _wait_ to see what you've got."

Kurt resists the urge to roll his eyes or come back with some sort of clever retort… but there's really nothing to say. Sebastian knows the choreography inside out and already has high expectations of Kurt despite the boy only being here for a whole day. The past three hours have been absolutely exhausting, and he still has ridiculous amounts of catch-up homework to do to get up to speed in the rest of his academic classes.

But it's all worth it; at least, Kurt's trying to convince himself of that. Here, Karofsky isn't a constant threat. Here, Kurt actually gets to _see_ Blaine, gets to _talk_ to him, gets to _sing_ with him, instead of through a million texts and the occasional Skype call. Blaine's been Kurt's source of courage, the friend he's come to lean on, the man he's wanted to be with at all times for almost three months now. And now that he's here, Kurt wants to know all about him.

"So," Kurt says, furtively directing the conversation. "Have the Warblers ever had more than two leads?"

Sebastian looks up from inserting his CD back into a case. "With an all acapella group, you need a pretty strong base to back up the equally strong lead," Sebastian explains patiently, as if Kurt's a toddler. Kurt has to fight to keep his face straight. "Blaine is our strongest Warbler, and hence has been our lead for the past two years."

"Really? Nobody's ever competed for his spot?"

Sebastian's eyes focus on Kurt's face analytically. "Soloists are nominated by the group and their performance evaluated so that, when the current lead graduates, another one can quickly take his place."

Kurt has the feeling that Sebastian is baiting him, but he wants answers and snaps up the bait anyways. "So this is less the Warblers and more like The Blaine Show and the Pips."

A sneaky smile snakes its way across Sebastian's face. "Unless Blaine decides to step down or allow a substitute to fill in for him. Or, in extreme cases, if he's barred from the spot by the Warbler board or the administration."

Kurt feels like he might be digging himself a hole that may or may not be for his benefit, so he injects some levity into the situation by laughing lightly. "Blaine would never do anything to warrant that."

Sebastian's gaze hardens slightly. "You talk as if you know him."

Kurt gets a little defensive. He wants to snap that they have something special, a deep connection that Kurt feels from the bottom of his heart… but something in the back of his mind screams that Sebastian wouldn't react well to that kind of mushy stuff, so he explains instead, "I've been talking to him for a couple months now. He's been a really good friend. Somebody I really came to trust, who came to help me out when I really needed him."

Okay, that's definitely an aggressive look on Sebastian's face. Possible ex or something. Kurt resolves to tread the ground if on eggshells.

Sebastian gathers up the rest of his stuff and stands up, towering above Kurt. "Listen up, Kurt," Sebastian growls softly. "I've seen the way you look at Blaine. How you talk to him, how you act whenever he's around. Let me just tell you two things. One: you don't know Blaine. You just don't know who he is, what he's done, what he's _still_ doing. My guess is that you met him when you came to spy on us in your black blazer and red tie. That's three months. Trust me, you don't know him at all." The taller boy slings his blazer over his shoulder and proceeds to walk to his room.

Kurt knows that's only one thing, which means that Sebastian is just baiting him again, waiting for him to ask what the second thing is. He doesn't want to; he doesn't want to give his second suitemate-enemy the satisfaction of making him beg and snatch for tidbits of information. But Kurt's stomach is a roiling pit of disappointed unease, his heart is jackhammering in panic, and his mind is utterly confused. Is Sebastian suggesting that Blaine has a whole secret dark life to which Kurt is completely oblivious to? Kurt had felt like he'd had a deep connection to Blaine, that they were _soulmates_. He'd opened up his heart to Blaine; he'd shared his deepest insecurities and taken comfort from the other gay boy. And for Sebastian to tell him that he doesn't know Blaine?

"Wh… what's… you said you had two things," Kurt mumbles.

Sebastian stops at his bedroom door. He doesn't turn around; he just looks over his shoulder, not really looking at Kurt, but Kurt still feels Sebastian's gaze burning into his skull. "Blaine's my man," he hisses softly, opening his room's door and striding in. "He's mine. Don't you touch him."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

__Let's talk about the season premiere! Alex as Unique is simply fabulous. He's a bit on the theatrical side of acting, but it fits well with the character: shy and quiet Wade versus loud and boisterous Unique. The following judgement is based off only one episode, but Kitty and Jake seem more like exaggerated, two-dimensional copies of Quinn and Puck than actual characters within themselves. Kitty's a bitch because she's Sue's new charge and Jake's angry because he's Puck's half-brother...? At least Marley has some hope. I hope we get to see more of her mom. "Chasing Pavements" was an amazing cover, especially since it actually served a purpose beyond iTunes sales (like "Call Me Maybe" or Klaine's "Perfect" or season 2 prom's "Friday" or every Katy Perry song Glee's thrown in there...)__

__Your thoughts about the Season 4 premiere?__

_Okay, back to this story. Finally we can move onto Sectionals! I've been trying to move things along as quickly as possible… It hasn't really worked. I can't believe it's taken this long. And to think, for all the prep I've made building up to Sectionals, the competition itself will probably one be one chapter._

_Sebklaine triangle. Watch out, Kurt._

_Yes, I pulled Lily's scene straight from "Episode 10: Actability." Alyssa is a girl from "Episode 0: The Final 14" who obviously didn't make the cut into The Glee Project._

_Like I said above, the next couple arcs are going to be a New-Directions-heavy sequence of chapters. Sectionals, then the celebratory party afterwards. Future plotlines: Hannah, Quinn, Matheus, Sam, Tina. _


	56. Star Power I

**Featured songs:**

"Hey Soul Sister" by Train  
>"End of Time" by Beyonce, covered by Pentatonix<p>

* * *

><p>Kurt's feeling terrible.<p>

It's not because he's nervous, standing behind the curtains in formation with the rest of the uniformed Warblers and preparing to launch into their first performance. Sectionals last year had been a blast, even though everything they did had been a half-hour improvisation due to Sylvester leaking their set list to their competition. He'd been doing it with his friends, people who, in the end, still loved each other enough to support each other through their rough times. Individual performances were no problem; Kurt knew his voice was one of a kind and he made sure everybody knew. Even dancing to Beyonce in a full football uniform on the field during the first game of the season in front of the entire school and their moms was no cause for nervousness. He'd just bounced his hips to _Single Ladies_ and high-kicked the football between the posts while the other team was frozen in befuddled shock.

Singing with the Dalton Warblers is an entirely different playing field with entirely different rules, and that's why he's feeling so miserable.

Here, he's even worse than a background singer. He's a background singer who serves no purpose other than add to their numbers. He can do nothing to define himself as an individual; in fact, that's exactly the thing he must _not_ do at all costs. The Warblers pride themselves as a completely uniform acapella choir, with extremely coordinated dance sequences. It may look impressive to onlookers, but Kurt feels incredibly unnatural. He feels like just another stone in the brickwork, nothing more than a boy in uniform chirping his part regularly. Like a plank of wood on the stage holding Blaine up for everybody to praise.

It's the worst feeling ever. It may be Rachel's insignia, but Kurt knows he's a star. Not another Warbler tooting one note over and over and over again.

He'd hoped his friendship with Blaine would give him a one-up for a solo, only to find out that it wasn't Blaine, but the Warbler board—David, Wes, and Sebastian—who decided that. And Sebastian was onto him. Frosty glares whenever he neared Blaine, stepping between them whenever they got too close.

Though with relief, Kurt's satisfied to know that Blaine has noticed this and isn't reacting to it positively. It seems Blaine does _not _consider himself Sebastian's man, however possessive Sebastian may be. The observation ignites a fiery desire within Kurt to _fight_ for Blaine's heart.

Yet at the same time, that competition only means that Sebastian will probably never let him rise in the Warbler ranks. He's be a soprano tweeting single high notes in the back for an eternity if Sebastian ever catches onto his secret affair with Blaine, nicknamed Project Blurt.

Kurt's expression twists. That doesn't sound very attractive nor appealing. Project… Klaine. Yes. His secret relationship with Blaine under Sebastian's nose shall henceforth be called Project Klai—

"And first up, the Dalton Academy Warblers!"

The curtains slide open, blasting Kurt's eyes with horrid brightness.

_Hey soul sister, ain't that mister mister on the radio, stereo  
>The way you move ain't fair you know…<em>

* * *

><p>The Warblers' first song is Train's bubbly "Hey Soul Sister." Hannah's heart melts and freezes up at the same time, due to the conflicting thoughts of <em>D'awww cute song<em> and _omg he's right there_ clashing together the instant she spots Cameron right behind the lead.

He's right there. He's right up front.

And looking completely different. Without the glasses, with tons more hair gel, or something like that. He looks like a different boy from the one she knew back in the day, with thick-rimmed black glasses and a bird's nest full of hair.

Also, she knows there's no way he could be looking directly at her. But hell, it sure looks like it. It looks like _he's looking right at her, _singing the harmony to those lyrics.

_Your sweet moonbeam, the smell of you in every single dream I dream  
>I knew when we collided you're the one I have decided who's one of my kind.<em>

Hannah's heart pretty much stops there.

Quinn must have noticed that Hannah has stopped breathing, because her warm hand rests on Hannah's shoulder. The cheerleader leans forward from her seat behind Hannah and whispers, "There he is."

Hannah's heart restarts. "There he is," she agrees, at a loss of what to say.

"You have his glasses?"

Hannah nods stiffly. Her plan is to approach Cameron afterwards, return the glasses (with some lame excuse that she found it in her car or something), and ask him out on a coffee date so that they could catch up. Or something.

She's saying _or something_ a lot. Must be her nerves or something.

Funny how she'd never ever been so nervous around Cameron before. But that had been when she'd convinced herself that Cam was simply an awesome childhood friend or something. The boy she'd known since second grade. Just a good friend.

Well, things are about to change. For the better or worse, Hannah doesn't know yet… and that's the problem.

* * *

><p>Mercedes oomphs when Rachel nudges her several times. "What?" she hisses.<p>

"It's Kurt!" Rachel whispers back happily. "Fourth row, second to the left."

Mercedes scans the formations of boys, all dressed in slacks and blue blazers and blue and red ties. Two boys sing up front: the lead singer from before, and another black boy with a voice to rival her own. Seriously, Mercedes is simply awed at his set of pipes.

It takes a couple seconds, but Mercedes spots Kurt eventually, looking as stiff as a dead cat both in body language and facial expression. "Oh no, he's nervous," she murmurs. It might be acceptable for the current mash-up, since both songs are in a minor key and convey a sense of longing, but Mercedes can't imagine the judges tolerating that too long. Every movement that Kurt makes, though matching his neighbors well, seems somewhat robotic, coughed up and churned out mechanically.

Rachel pops up suddenly, drawing a lot of attention from the surrounding audience members and their competition. She immediately sits back down, but she's accomplished what she set out to do: Kurt's looking at them now. Rachel puts on a huge smile, clapping silently before tracing her fingers along her lips.

Mercedes immediately copies this movement, trying to catch Kurt's eye and tracing her grinning lips. _Smile, Kurt. Smile! You're having fun, right? You better be, hun, leaving us… _

Kurt nods slightly and plasters a smile on his face. Mercedes nudges Tina next to her, quietly letting her know of Kurt's location. It's not long before all of New Directions is supporting Kurt, and it works. His movements become a little more fluid, and by the Warblers' concluding song, he's moving slightly more in sync with the rest of the formation.

_Take you away from here… there's nothing between us but space and time  
>I'll be your own little star, let me shine in your world in your own little universe, make me your girl<br>Come take my hand, I won't let you go  
>I'll be your friend, I will love you so deeply<br>I will be the one to kiss you at night (Kiss you at night)  
>I will love you until the end of time<em>

_I will be your baby, now promise not to let you go_  
><em>Love you like crazy, now say you'll never let me go<em>  
><em>Say you'll never let me go (say)<em>  
><em>Say you'll never let me go<em>

* * *

><p><em>Say you'll never let me go (say)<br>__Say you'll never let me go-o-o-o-o-o._

Cameron's still looking in their direction, Quinn notes with satisfaction. She can tell it's having a positive effect on Hannah, because, although the redhead's breathing rate has sped up, she won't stop smiling. Her happiness is infectious, spreading to Tina and Damian on either side of her.

In the subsequent break, they file out into the hallway and towards the prep room. Quinn still remembers what the last Sectionals had been like—Finn, having found out that Puck was the father of her baby and quit Glee club, had arrived at the last minute and rallied them all together in an impromptu performance of "You Can't Always Get What You Want." She still remembers sitting on the couch, anguished that the man she'd come to love was back but wouldn't look at her. The room brings back those terrible memories…

…and her baby. She'd tried to shove the experience to the back of her mind—and she's mostly succeeded, but Beth pops out at the worst times to haunt her memories. The little bundle of life that she'd nourished for nine months, walked through the halls of McKinley High with… and then she'd just sent her baby away without a second thought.

It's been almost seven months since Quinn has last seen Beth.

Quinn pulls herself back together as each girl seats herself at a vanity mirror and makes last minute make up checks. No need to go around drowning in those thoughts. Everything's okay now. She's back with the man she loves, Finn, and the attention hog Rachel Berry is out of the picture. She's got a solo today—well, more like a duet with Damian, but the Irishman really can't dance all that well and sometimes he has so much trouble enunciating American words that it'd be better off if a floating screen displaying electronic subtitles hovered over him wherever he went.

So really, Quinn will be shining the brightest on that stage today.

"Are you ready for this?" Damian says nervously, his voice shooting straight into her ear from his position close behind her.

Quinn jumps and whirls around. "Don't scare me like that!" she hisses, then composes herself. "Of course. No problem."

As she turns away from Damian, she notices Rachel in the corner, her lips pursed as she nods along in response to Mercedes, but with her eyes on Quinn's reflection. She notices Quinn looking and her eyes immediately flick back her own image, carefully applying lipstick.

Quinn scowls. Rachel and her sudden lezzing out. She can't get Finn, so _of course_ it makes total sense to go for the other half of the equation.

_No, it does not make sense at all_, Quinn tells herself. No sense at all.

_Of course, who needs sense when you have alcohol?_ niggles a little voice in the back of her mind.

That's it. No alcohol ever again. The first time got her pregnant with her boyfriend's best friend and led to a year of misery: getting kicked off the Cheerios, falling to the bottom of the social ladder, getting kicked out of her father's house, getting kicked out of Finn's house, fleeing from Puck's to Mercedes' house, struggling with relationships between Rachel and Finn and Puck, and giving birth to her baby in the middle of Regionals. New Directions losing Regionals. Giving her baby away and regretting it even today.

And the second time: making out with her frienemy in Rachel's basement. And waking up to find herself cuddled intimately with the girl. Later, being told that she'd actually kissed Rachel (though nobody else seems to have seen this.) A total violation of her morals, her religion, everything her father's raised her to be.

But then again, her father drank himself silly, slept with a tattooed freak, and left their family bankrupt. Yeah. Screw what her father wants her to be.

Wait… she wasn't trying to argue that.

Whatever. Hannah needs more help than Quinn herself does. Hannah's been the one that everybody's been accidentally walking over all this time. The big girl just needs some love.

Hannah reminds Quinn of a younger version of herself. The big girl whom everybody just walked over without another thought.

As long as Quinn focuses on mending Hannah's relationship while continuing her relationship with Finn, that's all she has to worry about. No need for Rachel or Puck or Sam or Mercedes… or Beth.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Another (relatively) short update. I just finished **City of Bones** from the **Mortal Instruments** series. Amaziballs, if not fairly predictable. Maybe hormonal teenage girls spent tons of time admiring guys' physical characteristics, but after the 100th time Clary got all twitterpated over Jace, I totally thought that the author was going to pull a fast one any moment now... I just wasn't expecting so many fast ones all at once. Great book._

_So in Britney 2.0... did Ryan Murphy just suddenly forget that he wrote in Samuel Larsen as Glee's teen Jesus? The clean, pure, celibate Christian character that isn't on Glee? So why was Joe Hart singing about a threesome with gusto? Not that I didn't appreciate the new spin on the song "3", but seriously... talk about out of character._

_FINALLY. Sectionals. I split it into two chapters so I could thank all of you for your lovely reviews!_


	57. Star Power II

**Featured songs:  
><strong>"Won't Stop" by OneRepublic  
>"Valerie" by Amy Winehouse<p>

* * *

><p>Their performance flies by in a whirl of happy bundle nerves. Sam can't really describe what he feels as he runs with the guys of the New Directions, weaving between the girls, taking Mercedes' hand as directed by the choreography and dipping her down low before pulling her right back up and whisking her towards the next guy. Tina swirls past, a flash of gray and white dress; Sam grabs her hand, pulls her in, swings her out, all while singing harmony to Damian and Quinn dancing in the center of their circle.<p>

Yep, definitely felt a jealous twinge there.

It's stupid. Damian isn't even dating Quinn—apparently he has a girlfriend in another town—but Sam still feels some resentment to the boy with his hands on Quinn's hips, swaying with her as he croons OneRepublic over her shoulder.

_I swear it's you, I swear it's you, I swear it's you that I waited for.  
>I swear it's you, I swear it's you, I swear it's you that my heart beats for.<br>And it ain't gonna stop, no it just won't stop._

Their twirling circle dance ends perfectly, with Santana at the top of the stage platforms, flanked by Rachel and Mercedes, and Mike and Brittany paired together in the forefront. The yearning string orchestra picks up with regular beats as Santana's voice drawls through the opening lyrics of their next number.

_Well sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water  
>And I think of all the things, what you're doing, and in my head I paint a picture<em>

_Since I've come on home, well, my body's been a mess  
>And I've missed your ginger hair and the way you like to dress<br>Won't you come on over? Stop making a fool out of me.  
>Why don't you come on over, Valerie?<em>

The number is just another reminder of how girls have failed Sam so far. He gave a promise ring to Quinn; He _promised _that he'd never force their relationship if she didn't want to go that far. It's only now Sam realizes that she used that promise ring to use him: for warmth, for comfort, for emotional support, for service. She never took it past an intimate kiss, and when she grew tired of him, she simply took off the ring and went straight back to Finn. So he'd gone to Santana, and they shared the wildest adventures in bed for a couple weeks before she left him too.

As they bow to thunderous applause, Sam decides on an impromptu course of action. His parents are out of town and he can get old Mrs. Applebaum next door to take care of his younger siblings. Then his house will be clear for a Sectionals party. It doesn't even matter whether they win or not; Sam's main goal for this party is not celebration, but alcohol. Perhaps even more alcohol than Rachel Berry's House Party Trainwreck Extravaganza.

That much alcohol ought to get some results.

* * *

><p>"And the winner of Winchester County's Glee club Sectionals is…"<p>

The Warblers and the New Directions hold their collective breaths.

"It's a tie! Both teams will move on to Regionals!"

What? But… how? Cameron's just a little confused. There are only three judges. And… isn't there a tiebreaker? How is this even legal? Has a tie ever happened before? Does that mean that some other Sectionals competition just didn't have a winner, that all their teams were so terrible that they couldn't nominate either one to go to Regionals?

Before he can think too much about this, though, the Warblers swarm around him, pulling them all into a uniformed bundle of sweaty victory. The group bounces off into the wings of the stage triumphantly and Cameron can't help but flow along with the high energy. He doesn't even blink in surprise when, standing in groups backstage, Damian pops out of nowhere and high-fives him.

"Does this multiple winning thing happen often in America?" Damian crows. "Two first places!"

Cameron shakes his head slowly and whistles. "No, I think it's just a Glee thing…" His eyes scan the backstage area, searching out New Direction costumes. "Is… Is Marissa here?"

Damian's excited expression falters slightly as he realizes what Cameron's getting at. "Oh, uh, sorry mate," he says uneasily. "She quit the club a while ago."

Cameron's spirits momentarily slump, despite the high spirits all around him. He'd really hoped to have an opportunity to talk to Marissa today, just to tell her… tell her what? He's not so sure anymore. That he misses her, that, when he'd retreated into himself and shut everybody off just because he felt unliked and nothing special and _lonely_, that he should have realized that all along there was somebody right next to him that had valued him more than anything, and that he should have returned the affection?

Except it's too late now. Marissa's been long gone, gone even before she started dating another guy—gone the day he'd looked up from the hole in which he'd hit bottom and vaguely noticed that Marissa was thinner, her hair straighter, her stance prouder, her eyes beautiful and sparkling and emerald and _not_ directed at him, but at the school's bad boy Noah Puckerman.

Who's standing a couple feet away, giving another New Directions boy a high five and looking absolutely ecstatic to be moving on to show choir Regionals.

Time moves on. People change. Even Puckerman.

Marissa's changed.

Cameron's changed.

He catches sight of a familiar bubbly blond face bounding towards him from offstage, just as Damian waves goodbye and takes off. The huge congratulatory smile on Shanna's face illuminates the dim lighting of backstage, and Cameron feels a small happy grin tug at his lips. He'd been a little wary of her when she'd snuck him out via the fire escape a couple days ago, but he'd found out the next morning that Trent had been caught that night at St. Mary's as well and would be serving weekend detentions for the next four weeks.

Shanna had also called him at the crack of dawn the next day on her morning run and returned his possessions to him, scaling the fire escape to do so.

Cameron's not as ignorant as he was last time; he realizes Shanna might have a thing for him.

He told Marissa that he'd wait for her.

Maybe he's waiting for the wrong person—a person from his memories, from his past. People change; Marissa is not the same 14-year old he'd once known.

Time moves on, and Cameron remains in the present.

* * *

><p>"I can't do it."<p>

"Do it."

"We tied! He's still our competition! We'll still be fighting him during Regionals."

"That doesn't matter, does it? I hear Damian's dating the lead from Vocal Adrenaline."

"Yeah, but that's… that's…"

"Do it. You have his glasses. He's right there."

Sure enough, Cameron's just a couple rows over. But he's surrounded by other Warblers, and he's so different, and… she's holding his glasses. That one link to the guy she loves, the nerdy hipster she grew up with.

Then Damian pops up out of nowhere and starts talking to Cameron animatedly. Hannah's confidence rises slightly with a friend there; better him than a bunch of strangers in uniform. Besides, when she'd told Damian that Project GCAMBT was over, he'd given her a knowing look and left it at that.

Quinn pushes her gently towards Cameron. "Go."

It seems like, now that she's moving, she can't stop. Her feet keep moving, step by step, closer and closer. One step. Another. Cameron's right there, a huge grin on his face, and it brings warmth to Hannah's heart. It's been a while since she's seen him. She grew up with him as next door neighbors; she'd grown used to seeing him every day, and the day he left to board at Dalton Academy, Hannah had felt like he'd taken a piece of her with him. She'd kept that thought mostly repressed until now, but it's bubbling out excitedly now, ready to burst into words as she nears him. His glasses are in her hands, ready to be passed back to their original owner. Damian looks over his shoulder, spots her, and slips away, but Hannah's ready to talk to Cameron, friend present or not. Just a couple yards now—

A streak of blonde rushes past Hannah. Within seconds, a girl has _thrown_ herself at Cameron, hugging him while bubbling excitedly. She's gorgeous, with straw blonde hair that almost seems to float behind her, full red lips, brilliant blue eyes, and an exuberant smile. She just exudes happiness, and it floods the auditorium around Hannah and drains her life away.

And then the blonde places a chaste peck on Cameron's cheek.

The black lens-less frames snap within Hannah's tightened palms.

She's still moving forward. She's moving through molasses but she's still moving. Her vision is getting blurry, the edges darkening as if she's about to pass out. The excited chatter in her ears dies down to a muted buzz. The nerves in her body are reduced to a tingling pins-and-needles sensation, all except for the jab of shattered plastic against her palm.

Cameron looks a little startled at the quick kiss, she notices, but doesn't look scandalized. A slow blush rises in his cheeks as a smile spreads on his face.

Hannah's feet keep pushing her forward.

Cameron looks up. He notices her. He smiles, but it isn't the same smile. Hannah doesn't feel anything. He's talking to her. Time seems to speed up and she suddenly snaps back into the present.

"—won too! A tie, huh?"

"I found these in my car yesterday," Hannah says monotonously. "Do you want them back?"

She holds out her hand. Cameron's fake glasses are snapped down the nose bridge. Fake. Fake fake fake. It's all fake. Her happiness is fake. Just a cover for her insecurities. She's not beautiful, not like this girl, still standing so close to Cameron. Hannah's just fake. Hollow.

Cameron only likes gorgeous girls, girls like Marissa and this beautiful blonde... thing. He's shallow. Fake. She's not beautiful. Fake.

"It's your glasses!" the girl chirps. "So she had them all along, not that you really needed them. Are… are you okay?"

Cameron's fingers curl around his glasses. With strangely heightened senses, Hannah can feel his fingernails scraping against her tender palm as he picks up the broken frame. His hand leaves hers, and Hannah goes numb again as soon as they break contact. "Hannah?" he asks, and it's as if he's speaking underwater. "What's wrong?"

Hannah feels like her happy mask is slipping away. She feels empty, hollow, fake.

* * *

><p>Cameron genuinely looks surprised when Hannah leaves suddenly.<p>

Shanna, on the other hand, has a sinking feeling in her gut.

"Cameron, who was that?" she asks, putting a little more physical distance between herself and the boy. She had no idea… and that girl had probably misinterpreted their interaction…

And she'd even kissed him.

Shanna's a tactile woman, but casually so. It's just her love language. She thinks nothing of hugging somebody as a way of greeting, resting a palm on somebody's shoulder, holding their hand to drag them to their next class, patting them on the back, leaning into them when she feels that they need comfort that words alone can't give… signs of friendship, of trust and love. The redhead's emotional reaction makes her congratulatory peck on the cheek seem like it's worth more when it wasn't meant to.

"That was Hannah," Cameron answers, still looking at where he last saw the large redhead. "She's a childhood friend."

"Just a friend?" Shanna prompts. Oh dear, he looks like he never knew either. That… complicates things. Shanna's heart reaches out towards the other girl.

"Just a friend," Cameron says faintly, as if he's just realized something gravely important. One half of his broken glasses drops out of his hand. Shanna quickly stoops down and picks it up, offering it back to him, but he's still looking at the clump of New Direction members.

The two of them stand in stunned silence in the midst of Sectionals celebration.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Concerning the tie: it's just a Glee thing. (Reference to TGP1, in which there were four winners.)_

_There's been dwindling attention as shown by less and less reviews each chapter. Hopefully this catches some attention. *cue evil laughter*_


	58. Raise Your Glass III

**A/N: **_Thanks to the people who PM'ed me about my mistake... I am so sorry. But thanks much for the spectacular amount of reviews! I hope this update is ample reward. _

_Also... hell. My life is way too crazy; things just keep building up. This next chapter will be the last in a while, sorrynotsorry._

* * *

><p><strong>Featured Songs:<strong>

"Poison" by Nicole Scherzinger  
>"Mr. Saxobeat" by Alexandra Stan<br>"Animal" by Ke$ha  
>"Panic Switch" by Silversun Pickups (<em>Suckerpunch<em> soundtrack)

* * *

><p>It takes a while for the party to catch on, mostly due to the true trainwreckiness of the last party, but Sam absolutely <em>promises<em> that there will be no alcohol at this party. Just fruit punch. And lemonade. And sick beats, mixed courtesy of Artie Abrams. Sam turns out all the lights and pulls out the blackout curtains, drenching the main floor in complete darkness… then brings out the strobe light, which Artie hooks up to the music. The result is somewhat absolute chaos, with beats that overwhelm the senses with deep bass and floods of light.

In short, everybody's dancing blind. The only light comes from a dim lamp in the kitchen, where the drinks are being served. Water, fruit punch, and lemonade. Of course, Sam had earlier prepared the lemonade with equal parts of tequila and water, and Puck spikes the fruit punch with vodka sometime during the night, so any sense of order quickly degenerates into wild raving.

"IT BURNS," Rachel squeals as she downs her second cup of fruit punch. She almost collapses on the nearest person, who is hopefully either Tina or Mercedes. Those were the people she'd entered the dance floor with, at least. "My throat is on fire. WHY DOES IT BURN?"

The usually composed girl is an absolute train wreck, and, from what Mercedes remembers, it doesn't take a lot for the girl to go crazy. "Girl, you need more water," she mutters.

"That's to put out the fire in my – _hic – _throat, right?" she laughs at her little hiccup. "Oh my. The fire's traveling south… It's spreading!"

_Got venom dripping from my lips; know who you're about to kiss?  
>Think that you can handle it? Boy, It's on.<br>Just step into the danger zone, shake it if you wanna roll,  
>Never bend, just take control, stakes are on.<br>So sick, ill-equipped, gonna stick to a stick, I don't think that I can stop this  
>Pick it up, let it drop, be my cup, stir it up, oh no, I'll never stop.<em>

_That bad girl power I got, I'll abuse it tonight, cause tonight got poison on my mind_  
><em>That power I got, you'll be mine when I strive, feel alive, got poison on my mind<em>  
><em>I got that poison (uh huh), I got that poison (uh huh), I got that poison, that poison on my mind.<em>

"Oh my god," Mercedes mumbles. "Rachel Berry, why?" She drags the girl towards the kitchen, where Puck is scooping fruit punch into a cup. "Shot of _water_, please," she orders.

Puck raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Mercedes puts an arm around Rachel's shoulder, pulling her closer, and positions her flat palm beneath Rachel's chin, as if displaying a glimmering object on sale. "See this?" Even in the muted light of the kitchen, it's obvious how incredibly rosy Rachel's cheeks are. Mercedes pastes on a saleswoman's grin. "A Jewish with Asian glow. It's too early for _anybody_ to puke up and pass out on the floor. Especially when nobody can see anything. Water, please."

Puck fills up a cup and passes it towards Mercedes. "Wise words, woman." He fills another cup and stalks off towards the corner of the living room, where he'd previously seen one particular girl leaning against the wall with her arms crossed stubbornly, refusing to dance. "A drink?" He offers a red cup chivalrously to Quinn.

The girl levels him with a heated glare. "Puck? I'm the designated driver."

Puck puts his hands up as if appeasing a spooked animal. "I swear, there's no alcohol in this."

Quinn's lip curls almost hatefully. "You can't be serious, Noah Puckerman. The boy who's carried on the tradition of spiking Sue's punch bowl during every school dance, now in a room with another punch bowl. And offering me a drink from that bowl. You can't seriously be trying to repeat last year."

"I swear I didn't spike this, Quinn. Damn, girl, can't you just trust—"

Quinn snatches the red cup out of Puck's hand and immediately splashes its contents in his face. She's surprised to see that its contents are clear. Not fruit punch or lemonade, but _water_. Oh. But she's on a roll now, and to apologize would only destroy her authority in Puck's eyes for the night. He might not leave her alone. "I have personal experience _not_ trusting you," she hisses, "And by the way, I'm dating Finn." She strides away, exuding so much regal bitch power that the dance crowd parts before her even in the middle of a song.

Except for one person, though Quinn can't bear to get angry with her.

"Whoops," chirps Brittany. "I can't see anything." Her hands feel Quinn's body, as if figuring out the position of another body is a way to orient herself.

Brittany suddenly hugs Quinn, feeling the squish of the older girl's body against hers. Her boobs aren't as big as Santana's, but Santana re-inflated them over the summer after spending too many days in bed.

"You need more soy milk," she breathes into Quinn's face.

Quinn's body stiffens as Brittany's chest pokes her. "Did you take off your bra?"

"Hell if I know!" Brittany giggles. "I'm drunk!"

"Yes. That would explain a lot," replies Quinn, prying Brittany's fingers off her shoulders. Now without support, Brittany stumbles around until she's able to latch onto the nearest person. Without a second thought, she begins to grind into him or her. Her hands skim along the figure, soon determining that yes, it is a girl, and that the girl is eagerly grinding back.

_Mr. Saxobeat, Mr. Saxobeat.  
>Hey sexy boy, set me free, don't be so shy, play with me<br>My dirty boy, can't you see, that you belong next to me.  
>Hey sexy boy, set me free, don't be so shy, play with me<br>My dirty boy, can't you see, you are the one for meeeee._

The strobe light flashes quick, rapid succession of brilliant illumination that soon reveals Tina's body heavily leaning back into Brittany, her arms reaching back to embrace Brittany's torso, as Mike looks hungrily at the two of them.

Oh boy. This is hot. Brittany has the sudden urge to take off more clothes, but seeing as she's already down to the bare basics…

Tina's heart hammers when Brittany's fingers walk their way down her torso and then inch their way back up, dragging the hem of her shirt up as well. But Mike's eyes never leave her and she feels so _hot_ and Brittany's helping and so she just raises her arms as Brittany pulls her thin sweater off, leaving her in just a skimpy tank top and short skirt.

She's never felt like this. So hot. Her mouth is burning, her throat is burning, down her body. Brittany's hands dance around her torso and suddenly she's the filling of a hot dancing sandwich when somebody else presses into her from the front.

It takes her a moment to realize the person in front of her is not Mike.

She pushes her away roughly, ignoring the other girl's startled gasp as she slides sensually down the length of Brittany's body. Brittany's arms hook around her armpits, catching her before she hits the floor, then pulls her straight up and swings her towards Mike. His arms are there to catch her and she slumps against his hard, sweaty body and she is ready, she is _so, so ready_.

_You make me this, bring me up, bring me down, playing sweet  
>Make me move like a freak, Mr. Saxobeat.<br>Makes me this, brings me up, brings me down, playing sweet  
>Makes me move like a freak, Mr. Saxobeat.<em>

Santana grunts as she collides with a wall of bodies. The _bitch_, stealing Brittany and then shoving her away as if… her eyes rake the crowd, only illuminated in bleached light every few seconds, for the familiar face, but she can't see the girl.

Somebody runs into her, hands seeking her body. The room's too dark to recognize anything, but the texture of skin indicates that he's a guy. She backs him up until he hits the wall with a gasp, whereupon she attacks his face with her lips, pulling, teasing, demanding. He gives in easily, groaning, his hands simultaneously seeming to push her away yet draw her hips closer to his. Irritated with such indecision, she grinds against him and moves to take off his shirt, giving him a wordless ultimatum.

Mike gasps as fingernails scratch the hot skin of his abdomen, and he willingly sheds his shirt. Heat bursts to life at her touch, fingers tracing out his abs, but he still hovers on indecision. He can't… he shouldn't… but it's so hot and Sam's lemonade is making him think funny.

Then the girl growls into his mouth and pulls away. The sudden departure of warmth is shocking, and Mike simply slides down the wall to sit on the floor. Moments later, another body hits the wall next to him and slides down nearby. Mike glances over—it's Damian, sweating profusely, a silly grin on his face.

"Wuh… whsa so hawt in'ere?" Damian drawls, fanning himself with a single hand. His enunciation seems to have disappeared with every cup of punch that he's drunk. "When… are we gun hom tonit?"

Mike's vision swims; despite his knowledge that the bitterness in the back of his throat after just one gulp of fruit punch was not just something he was imagining, he'd decided to keep on drinking after witnessing the party down on the dance floor. He's so drunk now that it'd been too dangerous to drive home. Thank goodness he told his parents beforehand that he'd be pulling an all-nighter studying for the SAT at a friend's house.

Oh yeah, he's supposed to take the SAT next weekend. He should probably start taking that seriously.

"I can't drive," Mike slurs. "We'll just have to sleep here tonight."

"Sleeeeeep," Damian almost _purrs_, leaning against Mike and… snuggling? Mike is downright shocked; Damian started off the semester as a boy completely adverse to physical contact.

Damian, on the other hand, is feeling particularly lonely. He feels like somebody should be at his side, and right now the closest one of Mike. He's spent the last couple days camping out at Mike's house, sleeping on the floor of Mike's room in a sleeping bag; so this feels pretty natural. Right?

Mike shoots to his feet and disappears so fast that Damian doesn't realize the Asian's gone until his body hits the carpet. The next instant, a large body trips over him.

"Oof!"

"Ugh…" Finn's still wearing a hoodie, even if he is sweating buckets. Like, literally, drops of water are running down his face. "Oh man… too much…"

"Agreed," Damian breathes, the heat still lingering in his body. He almost wants to take off his shirt just to cool off faster. It's so dark, nobody would notice. "It's so hot. So hot in here. How are you still wearing this?"

Finn stares in confusion at his sweater. "I… I don't know," he says, dumbfounded. "I… I guess I should take it off, huh?"

Damian demonstrates his agreement by taking off his own shirt. "Ahhhh," he sighs, pulling himself to his feet and maybe accidentally tossing his sweaty shirt in Finn's face. "That's better." He heads to the kitchen, fills a cup full of ice water, and promptly dumps it all over his head. Every flash of strobe light glints off his drenched body as he dives straight back onto the dance floor full of bodies in various states of disarray.

Well, if Damian, the guy who started off the year adverse to physical touch, is okay with stripping half naked and surrounding himself with hot sweaty bodies, Finn supposes it's okay to take off his sweater. He does so carefully, a small thought in the back of his mind warning him that, for some reason, he was supposed to keep something close to his person, but he ignores this and leaves his coat behind, not noticing when something drops out of the pocket. _Whew._ It seriously feels like it got 20 degrees cooler the minute he sheds the extra clothing.

Sam notices something fly out of Finn's pocket when his jacket thumps against the wall and falls to the floor. He's fairly aware of his surroundings; he wants his mind to be relatively clear when he starts things in motion, so he's drinking minimally. The flashes of light barely illuminate anything, but he's been able to observe a couple things, like Puck pushing Tina into the wall, and Santana finally convincing Quinn onto the dance floor, and Mike dancing gracefully, Mercedes moving like there's no tomorrow, and Damian clunking awkwardly next to her, and Rachel skulking around trying to get to Quinn, and Brittany riding Artie in his wheelchair.

Sam does a double take at Brittany and Artie. Is she actually… is it even possible in a wheelchair?

He picks his way to where he last saw Finn's jacket, but the only thing he can find around are various articles of clothing. When he sweeps the ground with his arms while on his hands and knees, his hands find an unidentified article of clothing and he freezes when he realizes it's a bra.

Okay. This is good. He meant it to go this way, with the darkness and strobe light and all. This is all part of the plan.

_I am in love with what we are, not what we should be  
>And I am, I am starstruck with every part of this whole story<br>So if it's just tonight, the animal inside, let it live then die  
>Like it's the end of time, like everything inside, let it live then die.<em>

_This is our last chance, give me your hands_  
><em>'Cause our world is spinning at the speed of light<em>  
><em>The night is fading, heart is racing<em>  
><em>Now, just come and love me like we're gonna die.<em>

He's about to get to his feet again, having given up on finding Finn's mystery object, when somebody leaps onto his back. "Waugh!"

Matheus' voice floats into his ears. "Ahhhhh man, I'm drunk. I'm definitely really, really drunk. Everything is soooo funny right now. You're ticklish, aren't you!" He pokes Sam in the side, and sure enough, wild spasms wrack his body. Sam bursts out laughing, but only because his abdomen _is_ extremely ticklish with a sharp enough jab.

"Oh, ha, Matheus, stop that," he gasps, which only encourages Matheus to apply a flurry of jabs from his seat on Sam's back. Sam rolls over quickly and engages in a short wrestling match. Matheus is shirtless as well and slick with sweat, constantly slipping out of Sam's grasp and finding holds in his shirt. Sam pulls away, twists, and suddenly his own shirt is being torn apart (but he really doesn't care). He just keeps on fighting until he's finally got Matheus pinned on the ground.

Matheus stares up into Sam's face, his arms held above his head by Sam's muscled arms, his legs pinned by Sam sitting on them. Sam's shirt is in tatters, hanging off his defined abdomen like thin rags.

And it is _hot_.

_When you see yourself in a crowded room, do your fingers itch? Are you pistol-whipped?  
>Do you step in line or release the glitch? Can you fall asleep with a panic switch?<em>

_And I'll try to hold on tight tonight. Pink slip, inviting me inside._  
><em>I want to burn skin and brand what once was mine, but the red news came ripping in to fight.<em>

Though Matheus is still just a little confused when Sam leans down and kisses him. His lips are full and large and tender, and if Matheus closes his eyes…

The music ends and doesn't start back up again, which also means that the strobe light stops flashing, plunging the entire house into inky darkness. A collective moan rises from the group of teenagers, alerting Artie to the fact that he has neglected his task for the past half hour, and that his playlist has run to its end.

Artie suddenly realizes what the compromised position he's in. It's as if the sudden silence and the lack of hypnotizing light has finally allowed him to return to his senses.

He shoves Brittany off his lap, furiously blushing (though likely that nobody can see him). He… he didn't… he wasn't supposed to… but damn, it was the best thing he'd ever done in… but he hadn't even known if he could.

And apparently he can. So what's he so mad about?

"Sorry!" he calls as the murmurs grow louder. "Sorry, it'll be back on… right…" He wheels over to the sound system, logs into the laptop, and starts up the mixer again with several playlists. Bass thrums through the floor, sudden flashes of light blind the eyes again, and the party slowly starts back up.

In the slight confusion, though, several couples slip away. The music blasts away into the night as perception grows fuzzy, as alcohol takes hold of several teenagers and drags them under the cozy warmth of sleep with hormones rage hot above them.

"IT STILL BURNS," Rachel announces to anybody who will listen to her. "IT BURNS BETWEEN MY LEGS."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_A bit more mature. Also writing in omnipresent style has its ups and downs: a little confusing when switching between point of views, but allowed me to communicate a wider perspective. Definitely smoother than the last time I tried split perspectives (the Blame It arc). What do you think?_


	59. Shattered Glass

_A/N: Sorry about my mess-up with the last chapter, in which I uploaded a chapter from a completely different story. My bad. I deleted it and uploaded the new chapter again, but due to Fanfiction's new workings, you don't get a notification. _

_So this is the AFTERMATH of the party. If you haven't read about the party in the first place, head back a chapter and read that up first. (And review? Please?)_

* * *

><p><strong>Aftermath – the next morning<strong>

* * *

><p>Artie finds himself trapped in the corner of Sam's living room, unconscious bodies strewn around him. Sunlight leaks through cracks in the blackout curtains and Artie's eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness to observe the people around him: Quinn's silky blonde hair is tangled with Mercedes', both sleeping on opposite ends of the couch. Rachel lies on her back on the floor underneath Quinn, her legs still in Quinn's lap as if she was just shoved off. Right next to her, Mike and Damian seem to be curled around each other comfortingly like two peas in a pod; their shirtless torsos are brightly colored in neon highlighters. Finn has slid halfway off an armchair, with his legs still in the cushions, his torso braced against the floor, and his face resting in an almost empty bowl of corn chips. What appear to be Santana's legs stick out from behind the entertainment center, which has been pushed away from the wall. Brittany lies on her belly right in front of Artie, glitter and popcorn and corn chips crumbs in her hair.<p>

All are in various states of undress, with Mercedes at Mostly Clothed, Finn and Quinn at Switched Outfits With Each Other, Damian at Shirtless, Mike and Rachel at Underclothing, and Brittany at, well… somebody's shirt, stained red with what is hopefully fruit punch, is draped across her ass.

And Artie…

He zips up his pants and pulls on the nearest shirt, not remembering what exactly happened last night. But his own lack of clothing and the stark naked girl in front of him says enough.

* * *

><p>Matheus' rise to consciousness is like rising from the deep end of a swimming pool. The light grows steadily brighter, the pressure lessens, and suddenly he's gasping for air because it still feels like he's fourteen feet underwater and can't breathe because of the elephant on his chest.<p>

The elephant that is Sam.

The memories strike Matheus suddenly, pelting his mind and he remembers_, he remembers_ wrestling with Sam and then following him to his bedroom and… and making out… and then he doesn't remember anything.

He's still wearing his pants. That's an immediate relief. He might be lying on Sam's bed with a shirtless Sam draped over him, but they've still got all their clothes on and Matheus doesn't have any memory of taking them off and that's the biggest relief, because he didn't know any of that about himself and he's still not sure if it's true.

He certainly doesn't feel that awkward lying on Sam's bed.

He does feel pretty terrible though. He feels like he didn't consent, though he sort of did, but he didn't really know where Sam was leading him until they got to that point and then he was like, okay, sure, and then…

He pushes Sam off, and the larger boy groans. Matheus stills, waiting for Sam's breathing to steady again. No, this wasn't how things were supposed to turn out. He… he still loves Sunshine. He feels like he's cheated on her, even though she never was his in the first place…

The conflicting feelings clash against each other: warm desire and cold fright, a strange mixture that nonetheless twists his insides, driving him mad, and he has to get out of bed and think about this later. He'll think about it when his mind clears and he stops freaking out.

The world sways and sunlight streaks past his sensitive eyes as Matheus lurches to his feet. His head hurts, ringing painfully. He just stumbles outside, pulls on the nearest shirt (about two sizes too big), and quietly hobbles out the door.

* * *

><p>Santana snorts as she wakes up, inhaling an obscene amount of dust. She coughs furiously and lifts her head, only to run it into a piece of wood. Her head rings painfully as she slowly realizes that her body is crammed in a tight space, and she almost panics before she realizes that she can get out. She's trapped in a tiny cupboard or something, lying on… DVD cases. Her hair is clumped together in sticky strands.<p>

She squirms her way out, but has to stop several times to catch her breath and calm the angry words trying to scream their way out of her head. Whatever, this isn't the worst hangover she's had before. If anything, it's probably the least drunk she's been this month. But this is the first time she's woken up in such an awkward position. Usually she gets drunk and wakes up in somebody's bed, and it's pretty easy to slip out of that situation. Waking up in the lower storage cabinet of an entertainment center? That's a first.

Har har, wasn't that punny.

It isn't until she gets out that she realizes her shirt is not on her body. The skin of her torso is as sticky as her shirt, and she sort of remembers a fruit punch shower sometime last night. She'd thought most of the people had participated, but, looking at the unconscious bodies in the living room, it seems like she'd been the only one who'd happened to be standing underneath the fruit punch bowl when Finn and Puck had lifted it into the air.

Oh, and look, there's her shirt. Santana huffs exasperatedly; of course it's the only thing covering Brittany's ass.

* * *

><p>When Rachel wakes up the next morning, she still remembers the fool she'd made of herself the night before.<p>

No matter how much she had begged Quinn, the other girl had absolutely refused to help her relieve the burning sensation in the southern portion of her body.

Her extreme embarrassment is only exacerbated by the pounding of her heart in her head. Her stupid, stupid heart.

At one point, after she'd donned Finn's overly large polo, Quinn had finally snapped and pulled Rachel aside roughly. "Listen up, Man Hands, because I'm only going to say this nicely once: if you keep this up, I will _kill_ you. I don't want anything to do with you and I'm not going to sleep with you. I. Am. Straight. All you're doing is making yourself look like the biggest idiot in the world. Please, for _your_ sake, _stop hitting on me._"

Rachel's common sense has taken hold now that she's awake—with the biggest hangover in the world, but still very aware of herself and her position.

Like the fact that she's lying on her back on the floor with her legs still in Quinn's lap. Really, she'd prefer that her body be flipped 180 degrees. She also realizes a little belatedly that she's wearing as little as possible without actually being in the nude.

She swings her legs off Quinn's body hurriedly, searching the dark living room for clothes. There is another figure kneeling on the ground—female by the figure of her bare back—and the next second, Rachel registers that the other girl is trying to wrestle a jacket over the limp form of an unconscious Brittany.

"Oh!" is all she can say in surprise. Now that she really thinks about it, she can't remember why everybody decided to take off their clothes.

Santana's head whips around. "Ru Paul, I need your help," the Latina barks.

"Um, I believe that jacket may be a little too large for her." Which is a severe understatement; if Brittany were standing, the article of clothing would probably extend to her mid-thigh.

Santana's already got Brittany's arm hooked through a sleeve. "That's the point, Berry," she sighs. "Less work."

Oh. Goodness, she feels like her head's about to split open. Did she do anything besides hitting on Quinn and drinking more of Sam's spiked fruit punch?

The burning shame fills the pit of her stomach again. "Santana, what do you remember about me last night?" she asks as she moves towards the two cheerleaders, offering a helping hand.

One of Santana's eyebrows rises. "You shamelessly trying to seduce Quinn while she desperately tried to tear herself away from you and simultaneously make out with Finn which ending in them trading clothes in a dark corner while Brittany got it on with Wheels in the other corner and I couldn't find Guppy Lips or Puckasaurus and that there was absolutely no way that I'd sate the burning sensation between your legs but we ended taking a fruit punch shower together anyways and then Finn passed out and Mercedes and Quinn had a little cuddle puddle over there on the couch that you kept trying to butt into until Quinn shoved you so hard that you smacked heads with that hardheaded Irish leprechaun and knocked yourselves out?"

Rachel blinks. So that would explain why she feels like she cracked her skull open… she glances at Damian, then does a double take. He's the big spoon to a fetally-curled Mike in the middle of the living room floor, and from what she can see, it appears their bare torsos are covered in neon highlighter.

Santana continues talking. "Really, Treasure Trail, I didn't think you had it in you. Boys _and_ girls. Isn't there some Jewish thing—"

"I have two gay dads," Rachel snaps.

Santana's tirade pauses momentarily. "Well, just sayin', for a girl who usually dresses like she's trying to appeal to the very specific fetishes of a single Japanese businessman, your behavior last night was downright shocking."

Rachel's not sure whether this is a compliment or not.

Santana's eyes narrow. "Or maybe you're off to create the world's most awkward love triangle. Straight girl goes for the other straight girl in an attempt to win back the boy's attention. I don't really see how this ends, unless it's in a threesome. Newsflash? Both of them sort of hate you. Find another boy. Or girl."

Oh god, now it feels like her heart's going to split open. It's going to fall in little pieces all over the floor, and she'll have to crawl all over unconscious bodies and random articles of clothing and crunchy corn chips and Cheetos and… glitter?... in an attempt to recollect the pieces of her broken heart.

Rachel just sits there on the ground in the middle of the living room for a while, half naked and trying not to cry.

* * *

><p>She'd had an incredible sex dream last night.<p>

He'd followed her into the bathroom at her invitation, eager for him to love her. He'd shoved her against the wall, forced her into submission, done all the things she'd begged him to do. It wasn't sex on the beach, but inside the exceptionally large bathtub with its warm running water was enough.

She didn't think she'd ever screamed so loud in her life. It was a feeling unlike any other. It was a guilty pleasure dream: the wild sex beyond her wildest dreams.

Except Tina had woken up in the morning, wrinkled like prune from soaking in the bathtub all night, with one of Puck's shoes at the bottom of the toilet, and it hadn't been a dream at all.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Pretty awesome cliffhanger, ain't it._

_Awkward Faberry thing on its way to resolution. (I've discovered through writing Faberry... that I would rather blow holes in that ship.) Sam-everybody ship just got heavier. A new polygon has been born._

_And I, as the author, am currently overwhelmed with professional school. Sorry guys, I'm taking a break. Don't worry, I'll stock up on chapters so I can continue to release them on a weekly basis. In a month or two. Reviews would still be greatly appreciated, thanks for your feedback._


	60. Aching In My Heart I

_A/N: Happy Halloween! Enjoy the freak show._

* * *

><p>The bright side? Lindsay's the female lead again, after Giselle's disappearance from Vocal Adrenaline. Just in time for Sectionals too! It's what she originally set out to do when she first joined, so it's like a dream come true, right?<p>

The downside? She's playing opposite Bryce again. She has to pretend like she's madly in love with him. She needs to communicate their chemistry, a bubbling hot potion of desire and attraction, when all she really feels is a frothing unhappy mixture of baking soda and vinegar threatening to split her heart open.

Unhappy memories keep spilling into her mind as she practices flips with Bryce. She and Aylin do this move where they leap onto his knees and do an assisted backflip into the arms of two bases. Aylin apparently has a ballet and hip-hop dance background and does it fairly easily while singing the base lyrics to Lindsay's elaborations to the final repeat of the chorus. Lindsay has a bit more trouble, though it actually helps a bit more to know that Blake's the one catching her. She's only know him for all of five days, but he's a friendly, supportive guy and it makes her trust him just a bit more to not drop her.

"You. Girl," Dakota Stanley barks, and Lindsay looks up. He only refers to the leads as "you"; this is high praise in his dictionary. Everybody else is called something else demeaning like Asian Speck (Sunshine), Gaysian (Abraham), and Turkey Delight (Aylin); Blake and McKynleigh don't even have names and are called by their roles instead: Base #24 and Girl #7. "Launch yourself into those bases' arms. No waiting for #23 to get his tubby body in position. I'll just replace him with somebody else if he keeps _horribly failing to do even the most basic task_. Is that clear?"

Lindsay nods and positions herself next to Bryce, hooking her arm in his. The physical contact sends shivers through her body, reminding her of romantic touches, of lying on the couch unbuttoning his shirt…

The only good memory that comes to mind of Bryce is that he didn't take her. He actually stopped her. But then he was gone the next day, off with another girl, and it hurt so much, so soon after her breakup with Derek.

Which is when McKynleigh swooped in. A rebound relationship that lasts only nine days is no good for any girl. It reduced Lindsay to a fragile glass statuette ready to shatter at any emotional moment. Only Samuel and McKynleigh and her parents and eventually her older brothers pulling her into their warmth prevented her from jumping over the edge.

She's healed, but she still has mental scar tissue. Rough, thicker than the regular covering. She'd been much more guarded, and it took Damian an achingly long time to wear that shell down and open her up so that he could show his love for her.

She's grateful for that, she really is.

Only now her contact with Bryce is raising all those protective shields again. She can't bear to be hurt again. She has to be a strong, independent woman, one who doesn't need a man to come and try to support her, only to leave suddenly and cause her unexpected collapse and just leave her in pieces.

She will never let herself be hurt.

Never.

* * *

><p>Hannah comes to school a completely different person.<p>

Her usually burnt orange hair is a fiery purple now, with blue highlights. Purple _lipstick_. A tight black shirt and a jean skirt that almost sweeps along the floor.

Damian almost doesn't recognize her. He eyes the strange girl's outfit, looks away before the girl can catch him staring, and continues down the hall before his mind catches up a second too late and he whirls around in an astonished double take. She's already passed him, but it's her figure, her wavy hair (though purple now), and her backpack (which hasn't changed at all, except for the keychains hanging off the zippers, which look dark and moody now) that assures him that it's his friend. "_Hannah?_"

The girl lifts one hand in a _Speak to the Hand and Leave Me Alone_ gesture. She joins a group of three other girls, and they all stalk off together, carrying themselves with a fierce pride that sends loners and Cheerios alike clearing a path for them.

Damian briefly considers chasing her down. She'd told him last week that Project GCAMBT was over, but that hadn't been too much of a surprise. After Cameron's third attempt via apology song had failed, they'd all assumed that GCAMBT wasn't happening anytime soon. That it was all up to Marissa now.

Then Sectionals had happened. Hannah had been the only one who hadn't shown up to Sam's party, though Damian had been glad for her sake. He'd woken up Sunday morning with only a brief smattering of memories, including somebody drawing on his ticklish abdomen. And kicking somebody while laughing uncontrollably. And fruit punch and corn chips raining down upon him at some point.

Anyways, Damian has no idea why Hannah's like this. They _won_ at Sectionals. Well, they tied, but that shouldn't be such a bother, should it? They're both moving onto Regionals. That's great!

Then he realizes that chasing her down shouldn't even be a question, and he pushes through the crowd to catch up to Hannah. It's just so _strange_ seeing her like this: Hannah had been the happy friend. Even above Sunshine's brightness, because even Sunshine lost her cool sometimes.

Hannah's easily separable from the regular crowd due to her purple hair. Why purple? She never expressed any particular like for purple.

"Hannah!" he calls, dodging two Cheerios, weaving through a group of jocks, and almost crashing into a teacher with a stack of papers and a coffee. "Hannah! Wait up!"

One of the three girls surrounding Hannah notices him: a pencil-thin girl with tresses of brown hair. She starts talking to Hannah, and though Damian can't hear her, he can interpret her intent quite clearly when she cracks her knuckles threateningly.

Hannah heaves a huge sigh visible through the rise and fall of her shoulders, shakes her head, and turns around. The three girls huddle behind her, shooting Damian nasty glances and chattering amongst themselves. "What do you want?" Hannah asks dully.

Damian pauses. "Hannah, what's wrong?" he says bluntly.

Hannah's eyes flash. "Nothing's wrong," she retorts coolly. "I'm fine."

"This is fine?" Damian echoes, gesturing at her body.

"This is me," Hannah replies icily. "This is me, right now. I didn't think you were so shallow to judge me just off what I look like, but I guess the Skanks were right and I was wrong."

"The… the _Skanks_?"

It's almost as if the veil Hannah's hiding behind ripples for an instant, revealing the true, uneasy girl beneath. Then the hard mask is back in place and Hannah nods. "We're the Skanks," she repeats firmly, and she launches in what sounds like a rehearsed speech. "We break free of the restrictions that Society as run by men has placed on us. We are our own women, independent and _free_."

"Damn straight," a black girl in black leather snaps behind Hannah. "Let's go, Hannah."

For another brief second, Hannah looks like her old self, the girl who doesn't want to hurt a friend by leaving so rudely. Then her eyes harden. "Whatever," she snorts, brandishing the _Go Screw Yourself_ hand again. "Goodbye, Damian."

Damian's speechless, but only for a second; his mind catches up faster this time. "Goodbye?" he yells at her retreating back. "What about Glee practice?"

To which she responds with the bird.

* * *

><p>Abraham's jaw drops when he spots Sunshine during their first class together on Monday. He thought he was risqué with his red skinny jeans and flaming red hair today, but Sunshine's got him beat with huge square glasses, pigtails tied off with pink bowties, and an outfit that screams HELLO KITTY, complete with a Hello Kitty backpack.<p>

She looks like an adorable nerd.

"Oh my god, Sunny, that getup is _hot_," Abraham breathes, exaggerating his statement by fanning his face with one hand.

Sunshine looks extremely pleased. "I figured today was Dress-Like-an-Asian day," she grins.

Abraham gasps, "Hel-_lo_, why didn't I get this memo?" He gestures down at his body, which screams less CUTE ASIAN and more LOUD AND PROUD. "Never mind that," he says quickly. "What's tomorrow?"

Sunshine's backpack slides off her shoulder as she slides into the seat next to him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's the theme for tomorrow?" Abraham grins and pokes her bowties. "I need to get my Asian cosplay on."

Sunshine's eyebrows shoot up. "Asian cosplay? Really?"

"Okay, you know what, let's scratch that. You've obviously already done Hello Kitty."

A small smile is spreading across Sunshine's face. "No, I think that's a great idea!" she exclaims. "What about some wacky Asian hair?"

"And crazy neon clothes to match," Abraham whispers conspiratorially. "We'll be funky Asian hipsters."

"Deal."

* * *

><p>Every day is the worst day of her life.<p>

Giselle stumbles through the hall, not even bothering to carry herself with dignity. She'd waited a couple days to let some people cool off and finally returned to Vocal Adrenaline practice Saturday, expecting some friends to welcome her back.

Ha. Friends.

Nobody talked to her. They avoided eye contact with her. They sang behind Lindsay as if she'd always been their lead. Coach Goolsby didn't appear to notice her.

Ironically, the only one who paid her any attention was the girl who'd destroyed her life. Sunshine. The little Asian girl had snuck her a glance every couple minutes or so, looks of concern and pity on her face. It just drove that stab of pain even deeper into her heart, and Giselle had left soon afterwards. She couldn't bear… no, she just didn't need it. She doesn't need Sunshine's pity.

She _hates_ Sunshine.

She hates the girl for completely uprooting her perfect life as the female lead, a position she'd held alongside Jesse St. James last year under Coach Corcoran's tutelage, and only regained two weeks ago after Goolsby's coaching. Giselle despises the girl for leaving her nothing, _nothing_, to live for.

Because what is she? Acrobatic song, interpretive dance, it's all she's ever done. She is nothing without that.

She is nothing.

But times moves on anyways, and Monday finds her still stumbling down the halls of Carmel High. Coach Goolsby hasn't exactly kicked her off the team yet, so she's not required to attend all her classes, and she's still exempt from exams. That's not going to last long, though. Without Vocal Adrenaline as her liberal arts education, she'll have to dive straight into academic studies like any normal high schooler.

Like any other teenager, indifferentiable from the rest. Nothing.

She sleeps in. Makes it to third period on time. Lunch, spent alone. The hot new cowboy every girl's been talking about passes by, but Giselle doesn't see what's so attractive about him. Sure, he has huge muscles, visible under his plaid long-sleeved button-up. He's tucked his shirt into his jeans and is wearing a belt with a huge brass buckle. Who does that? His blonde hair is a little lanky, even if it's been tied up into a tiny wolf tail. He's wearing a straw cowboy hat. Hasn't he realized that nobody does that here?

Really, Giselle doesn't see why so many girls are so wild about him. He's nothing special; just another hunk.

Though what's really got all the girls talking is the fact that he doesn't fancy any of them back. He smiles politely and moves on.

He make eye contact with Giselle for the briefest of seconds, but before he can even smile and look away, Giselle averts her eyes first.

Yeah, Giselle doesn't want to be with him. She wants to _be_ him, with all the surrounding girls talking about him—

She immediately shoves this thought to the far corner of her mind, where she's banished it for most of her life. But with little else to think about in her mind, the thought creeps right back out, dragging up her entire history with it.

Giselle grew up as a dancer, and as a female dancer, she learned to move her body a certain way. That's the mold she's grown up in. All the theater camps, the dance clubs, and finally Vocal Adrenaline—they all had a strict hierarchy; Giselle entered as a strong female lead, and she's stuck to that role for all her years. People expected her to play that part, so she compiled under that subtle pressure and acted feminine in everything she does.

Except now a huge chunk of her life was crushed by Sunshine. Now Giselle has no idea what role she's supposed to enact in her production of Life.

What's she supposed to do?

* * *

><p>Matheus is avoiding him.<p>

Saturday night, Sam had pulled Matheus towards his bedroom, and the shorter boy had come willingly. Sam had felt like he was on fire—whatever Puck had added to the fruit punch, it burned like hell even after swallowed—when he'd thrown Matheus onto his bed, closed his bedroom door, and leapt on top of him. The other boy hadn't resisted, kissing him back (although a bit slower, a bit more uncertain)… and then, after a good five minutes, he'd promptly passed out.

Making out with an unconscious body was definitely a big turn off. Even if both of them were hot and sweaty and…

Well, he'd gone to bed spooning Matheus's limp form and woken up Sunday morning with nothing. No hangover, no warm body sharing his bed.

Now, Monday morning, he simply hasn't _seen_ his friend. Their mutual classes are during the second half of the day, but their lockers are pretty close together. And though Sam's tried waiting at his locker for the entire five minutes between classes, Matheus hadn't ever showed up.

The fiery hope that had burned in Sam's chest (and in lower portions of his body) flickers out briefly.

"Hey Sam!" calls a familiar voice behind him. "Meet you after school?"

Sam turns around. Michael's walking—almost sashaying, with a light swing of his hips—towards him, an easy grin on his face.

The fire's back with full force.

* * *

><p>Taryn's finally quit work at the Lima Bean, which finally frees Nellie's mornings. She's sorely relieved, because now it means she gets to sleep in till 8am for her 9 o'clock class at Carmel Community College.<p>

Ah yes, glorious sleep.

She's driving back from her math class (speeding because the professor let them out late _again_ and she's probably going to be late to English at McKinley High) and she doesn't even feel sleepy. The wonders an extra three hours of sleep will do for you.

When Nellie finally reaches the school halls, they're completely empty. She runs down to her class and bursts in the door at the end of the roll call. Mr. Elliott looks up warmly, saying, "And she makes her grand entrance yet again."

Nellie hefts her books and brushes random strands of long black hair out of her face. "I'm here," she says breathlessly. She looks around and is surprised to find a random stranger sitting in the seat she's been assigned. For a moment, she just stands there awkwardly.

"Ah, yes." Mr. Elliott notices Nellie's confusion. "Tifa's cousin Rinoa is visiting. Why don't you sit in the back? The seat behind Michael's open."

Nellie tries to hide the light blush rising in her cheeks by ducking her head, casting her curtain of thick black hair to obscure her facial expression as she takes a seat behind Michael. He turns around and gives her a small grin before turning back towards the front of the room.

Nellie blushes even more.

Over the next couple minutes, she finds herself studying the back of his neck and the slight curls of brown hair rather than the book the class is discussing. Her eyes follow the curve of his neck down the neckline of his shirt…

She's supposed to go on a date with Charlie tomorrow night. He's coming over to Lima to celebrate her free mornings by staying up with her till midnight. The thought just makes her happy, then guilty for inspecting the back of Michael's neck… okay, now she's feeling pretty creepy. Wow.

Date. Date date date. She's going on a date with her three-year boyfriend.

Nellie spends the right of the class staring at her book, curtain of hair blocking her face from the world.

* * *

><p>Mike's always known his girlfriend to be an incredibly emotional girl, moved to tears any moment, yet sometimes bursting with infectious joy, or acting out her life as a series of theatrical poses. She's not emo, just emotional.<p>

That's what he keeps on telling himself when he makes eye contact with Tina for the sixth time that day. He tries a tentative, slightly apologetic smile. She breaks into shuddering sobs and quickly walks away.

Mike's not exactly happy about what happened Saturday night. He'd… well, Saturday night, he'd danced with Santana and Damian. He might have gotten a little too close and sensual to either one of them, he can't remember, but Sunday morning, he'd woken up in just his boxers, wrapped in Damian's arms with a continuous illustration of neon highlighter colors drawn between his and Damian's bare chests.

By then, Rachel, Puck, Matheus, Mercedes, and most importantly, Tina had already vacated the premises.

Facebook pictures were posted hours later. Some freaky weird stuff had gone down: lemonade pong followed by a lemonade fight, ending when Santana and Tina started bawling ("MY EYES. THEY ARE ON FIRE."), a fruit punch shower, human horse races, a corn chip eating contest, people wearing other people's clothes, and Puck's shoe floating in yellow toilet water. Brittany and Mercedes arranging him and Damian in an intimate position and making highlight art on their bodies.

Oh, and clothes _everywhere _in the aftermath pictures: Brittany apparently wearing only Finn's huge jacket on her skinnier form. Rachel covering her chest with Quinn's scarf and Mike's jeans as she searched for her own clothing. Santana finding Puck's other shoe in the entertainment center cabinet where she woke up. Artie wearing Rachel's shirt. Matheus pulling Santana's yellow-lemonade-stained skirt from under the couch. Brittany's bra hanging from a light fixture.

All in all, a Noodle Incident.

Only Tina had probably misinterpreted his and Damian's sleeping position and fled without a proper explanation. That's probably what's going on.

Probably.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_The "Noodle Incident" is an idiom which refers to an event that happened in the past but isn't ever fully explained, with the implications that it's simply too ludicrous for words. Sort of a "You Don't Want To Know" scenario. Except you sort of know, having read this chapter. _

_Cameo from Final Fantasy yet again. Tifa is from Final Fantasy VII; Rinoa is from Final Fantasy VIII. Funny thing is, they look very similar—except Tifa is a kickass martial artist (and has a much bigger rack). _

_Many new ships are launched while the Sam-everyone ship continues to get heavier. #sorrynotsorry_

_The title of this chapter comes from Ellie Goulding's "Only You." The line being: "Only you could be the aching in my heart."_


	61. Aching In My Heart II

Sunshine's eyes widen when Abraham shows up to Chemistry.

He's chosen an insane mix of blinding neon colors—green, purple, red—all in all complemented by his neon green hair.

"You're going to _kill_ your hair!" she gasps. "How many times—"

"Whoa my god, who are you and what'd you do to Sunshine?" Abraham looks fairly shocked as he seats himself at their table. "Are… are you a Sailor Moon girl?"

Sunshine just grins. Sure, she'd bleached her hair to death to get it this blonde, but the sailor's outfit (or more likely the short skirt) has been drawing attention all morning. Sunshine's fairly pleased with herself, especially when Abraham's eyes also noticeably dip over her body. "Nope, just some generic anime schoolgirl."

"I thought we were going with neon!"

True. But Sunshine wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to pull this off, with Abraham to witness, especially now that she had an excuse. "Whoopsie."

Abraham just laughs. "Well, I guess I'll just have to go around looking like the school's biggest eyesore while you… you look…"

"Whoa ho ho, Sunshine! Rowr!" Aylin sweeps into the room, perching onto a stool next to them. "Did I miss some awesome costume memo?" She raises an eyebrow. "And what are you, the Asian rainbow? And your _hair!_"

"We didn't quite communicate right," Abraham frowns. He then turns his frown upside down. "Not that I'm complaining." He licks his finger, touches it to Sunshine's arm, and makes a sizzling noise. "Woo hoo."

Sunshine can't stop herself from beaming. And blushing. Hot blood rises in her cheeks.

"And you guys just decided to throw a dress-like-an-Asian-sailor day?" Aylin continues questioning. "Also, Abe, I'm not sure if you know, but Coach fully expects you to make your hair normal by Sectionals this weekend."

Abraham nods. "Understood. I might as well have as much fun with it as possible before it goes natural again." He turns to Sunshine. "_Are_ we doing this dress up thing again tomorrow?"

Sunshine nods vehemently, admitting, "Maybe something a little more simple… putting this on after practice this morning was a helluva pain."

"Oh, oh, I know!" Aylin pipes up. "We'll suck Blake and Lindsay and McKynleigh into this, and we can be crayons or Skittles or M&Ms or something. I call the green M&M."

"That won't work unless people see us together," Abraham disagrees. "Nobody will notice, or they'll wonder why I'm running around with a red traffic cone on my head when I'm really trying to be a red crayon."

"Zombies!" Sunshine blurts. "No wait, Coach will kill us if we show up to practice with blood smeared all over our faces."

Aylin and Abraham look at each other, then burst into giggles. "Sunshine? With fake blood all over her face?" Aylin chortles.

"This I have to see," Abraham laughs.

"No, forget about it!" Sunshine exclaims, pulling a pigtail over her shoulder and brandishing it at her friends. "I am not accidentally dying this red." Both look absolutely gleeful at this prospect, but Sunshine's death glare appropriately shuts this possibility down.

"Lady Gaga," Aylin proposes excitedly. "We're doing one of her numbers for Sectionals anyways!"

Sunshine jumps on this, wishing to get blood out of the conversation. "Yes! Let's do it! It'll be perfect for the competition."

Abraham sighs. "We're clear on this? No telling me one thing one day and then dressing up as a stunning Asian schoolgirl the next?" He glances at her appreciatively, and Sunshine's spirits rise even higher.

She smirks. "Crystal."

* * *

><p><em>CRASH.<em>

"What was that?"

Ali shoulders her phone as she stuffs snacks in her bag. "Mom's throwing things again. Can you hurry?"

"I'm hurryin', girl," her adopted sister chides. "But what if a cop pulls me over? Then you'll have to wait another fifteen minutes and Mum'll tear me a new hole. I just quit work too, so I've got to save money."

Ali winces as glass tinkers. Something definitely _broke_ there. That'll definitely stop her mother from tossing things around, but the screaming's going to bring the house down next. "You know what? I'll just wait outside. Pick me up next to the fire hydrant?"

"Sure thing. See you, Ali."

Ali snaps her phone shut, grabs a couple crackers, and wheels herself towards the back door. Her father had stopped by months after the accident and constructed wooden ramps around the house as a sign of love—then he'd disappeared again, and she hasn't heard from him since. She had to deal with her problems and her adjustments with only the help of her adopted sister from then on.

It's strange, how, after only a year, her leg muscles have already atrophied so much. Sure, she can't actually feel them, but she still remembers how sleek and perfect her calves had been…

Ali squeezes through the back door and rolls down the ramp onto the concrete patio. From here, it's only a short roll around the house and up a tiny hill to the front street. She builds a little momentum and goes for a bumpy ride up the grassy slope but makes out to freedom. She still travels her way down to the street corner fire hydrant, though; she'd like to distance herself as far away from her mother and foster brother as possible.

Soon, a bright red minivan screeches to a halt in front of her. Her foster sister hops out of the driver's seat and rushes around to help her. "Thanks Taryn," Ali grins as the girl lifts her into the passenger seat, stores her folded chair in the back, and slides back into the driver's seat.

"What happened?"

Ali wrinkles her brow in thought. "We'll figure out when we get home," Ali says finally. "I think Mom might have accidentally broken something. Keith probably will have left again by tonight." She quickly slips on her happy face. "So where are we going?"

"I don't know," Taryn shrugs. "Where's the best place to waste time?"

"To the mall!" Ali squeals, and Taryn echoes her enthusiastically.

* * *

><p>Tina hasn't talked to Mike since Sam's house party. It's Getting Serious.<p>

Mike can't even get within a couple feet of his girlfriend without said girl bursting into tears and fleeing the scene. She sits on the other side of classrooms, ignores his calls, avoids him during lunch, and barely attends Glee practices anymore.

One would think she'd broken up with him.

He's thinking that he has to talk to her at least once before ending their relationship for real. They've had a great five months together, and he doesn't want to throw it all away due to a drunken experience he can't exactly remember. Something involving being trapped between a wall and Santana's body.

Any memory that involves Santana can't be good when you're in a relationship with somebody else.

So he goes to the only place he can corner her. It sort of involves a lot of creeping and stalking and making sure her parents and little brother are out of the house and she's alone, but when the time comes, he lets himself in the back door of her house with the spare key and slips upstairs to her bedroom.

She's sitting on her bed, staring blankly at the wall, silent tears slipping down her face, when he enters.

"Tina? We need to Talk."

Tina yelps. "Ohmigodwhatareyoudoinghere?" she hisses furiously as he closes the door softly behind him.

"Tina—"

She leaps to her feet, a hot bout of fury blasting into him. "Get out," she hisses. "You have no right to break into my house, you have no right to just walk in here without letting me know first. Get out _get out_ _**get out**__**.**__"_

He catches her arm before she can shove him back into the closed door. "Tina," he growls, aggression rising to combat hers. "I couldn't let you know first because you're avoiding me. If you're going to break up with me, we should at least talk about why."

At this statement, all anger seems to drain out of Tina instantly, like water out of a sink. It simmers away until nothing's left but empty horror. Mike takes this as his cue to begin talking.

"Tina, I know… during Sam's party…"

If it was even possible for more emotion to drain from Tina's expression, it does so now. The color just melts from her fair face, leaving an ashen blank slate behind. It breaks Mike's heart to see her like this. She sinks onto her bed slowly, and Mike follows her so that he doesn't appear to be talking _down_ at her. On an impulse, he grabs her lifeless hand.

"I'm sorry, Tina," he mumbles. "I'm so sorry, Tina… I don't remember much, but I'm so sorry."

Her hand jerks slightly. "What?" she asks, seemingly startled.

Mike pauses, slightly confused at Tina's expression. He continues hesitantly, "Me and Santana… I swear, we didn't do anything. We still had all our clothes on! I still did, at least, and that's what matters, right?"

Tina's hand is coming back to life slowly and she's gripping his hand tighter and tighter. It's as if the anger that had drained away is slowly slipping back into her heart. "I was dancing for you," she whispers, and Mike remembers her sliding against Brittany's body.

Even thinking about it now makes the southern regions of his body respond. Mike tries to put a clamp on this by staring remorsefully into Tina's eyes—beautiful brown, welling with emotion, even if a lot of it right now is anger. Because Santana had then come between them, Tina had shoved her to the side, and Santana had… she'd… Mike doesn't remember, but it eventually she got around to pinning him against the wall.

And Tina had seen all of that. Right after she'd openly seduced him.

"I saw you," Mike assures desperately. "I saw you and I swear, I wanted to… I wanted _you_. I _want_ you."

Tina's eyes—her face—her body is so expressive, bursting with emotion. Mike Chang's girlfriend is not emo; she's emotional, and it's pouring out of her, washing over him, dragging him away from reason and rationality.

"Show me," she hisses, suddenly fisting a lot of his shirt. "You didn't show me then. Show me now."

He shouldn't do this. It's not right. Not when she's so unstable, not when she's a swamp of ugly emotions dragging him down on top of her…

But he still wants her and he can't resist.

* * *

><p>"Venti half-white mocha, half-cafe vanilla, easy ice, with 2 shots poured appigato style with whipped cream and caramel drizzle frappuccino for Alex," Nellie announces as she slides the cup of coffee on the pick-up counter. "And a venti non-fat, no foam, no water, 6-pump extra hot chai tea latte for Char-Char."<p>

"Why thank you, kind maiden," a familiar voice sings, and Nellie barely has time to look up before a finger hooks itself underneath her chin and brings her head up, straight into a quick kiss.

"Charlie!" she hisses, taking a step back. The room is suddenly twenty degrees warmer. "I'm at work!"

"Not in five minutes," Charlie laughs, dancing away. "You've got beautiful color to your face, Nell. Bee-_you_-tiful."

Nellie tries to suppress the hot blood in her cheeks as she receives another order and prepares the espresso, feeling a ton of embarrassment with maybe just a tiny bit of happiness. Her and Charlie's relationship, however long, has been incredibly stressed for the past couple months—mostly due to Nellie's incredibly packed schedule. They've been communicating mainly via Skype and phone calls, and there's only so much energy that can be exchanged in that pathway.

_This_ is what Nellie finally fell for three years ago, after Charlie had hounded her for a month: his incredible energy, the stuff that brought her out of her shy shell and made her feel _alive_.

"Char-Char?" she asks when she emerges from the staff room ten minutes later. "I've never called you that."

"In your sleep, Nell. In your sleep."

Nellie looks at him, aghast. Charlie's playful grin just widens.

"I'm going to assume you didn't really mean that," Nellie sighs as they stride towards her car. She pauses as thoughts whirl through her head, though it takes another half second before she can spit one of them out. "Wait, how'd you get here?"

"I flew."

"No, really."

"I may have been sitting in my car while flying."

"I was going to pick you up, you know," Nellie says, a little miffed. She still finds it hard to adjust to Charlie's abrupt spontaneity; she's a planner through and through.

Charlie shrugs. "I figured, you're always the one driving between cities, so why don't I take a turn?"

Nellie sighs in exasperation. "There's a reason why I don't like Lima. The best place in town is the coffee bar I just left. Westerville has a mall and Carmel has a community college campus full of awesome stuff for college students. Lima's just a tiny Ohio town with—"

"With you in it," Charlie finishes softly. Nellie falls silent, half of her heart still frustrated and the other half melting into a puddle of goopy mushy… stuff.

Charlie slings a casual arm around her shoulder as they come to a stop in front of her car. Nellie's not much of a touchy-feely person, but she's come to accept Charlie's need for physical contact. "Okay, Master of Time-Wasting," she mumbles. "What now?"

Charlie's laugh rumbles through his chest, vibrating down his arm into her shoulders. "You're talking to the man who wrote the page on WikiHow. Let's see… we could learn to dance, or sing about our feelings, or do both at the same time."

"You could join Vocal Adrenaline and get plenty of that."

"Show choir is not for me, babe," Charlie exhales, resting his chin on top of her head as they stare pointlessly at Nellie's car. "I'm a one-man show, creativity and liberal license and all. Besides, Vocal Adrenaline knows nothing about feelings. No emotion, all dance." His hip swings to the side to bump lightly into hers. "And what about you? I hear your high school's got a ragtag Glee club that didn't make it past Regionals."

"Conflicts with work," Nellie says. "And McKinley High isn't like Carmel High at all—they're trying to get rid of their arts program. They sort of hate anybody who stands out. If you want to survive high school, you've got to blend into their social ladder… but the thing is, everybody who graduates from there usually sticks around in town. Lima losers."

"Hereby I dub thee an honorary Carmel citizen." Charlie kisses the top of her head. Warmth and slight embarrassment blossoms in Nellie's chest. She only tolerates this much physical contact because she's been with Charlie for a whole three years and this is how he acts every day (even kissing the Skype screen).

"What are we doing here then?" Nellie argues, peeling herself away from Charlie. "Let's go to Carmel."

Charlie catches her hand, pulls her close, and kisses her lightly. Nellie's breath catches and she flushes with warmth. "What was that for?" she laughs nervously when they break apart seconds later.

Charlie just smiles, but something shifts in his eyes. "Nothing," he grins. "Can't a guy kiss his three-year girlfriend on a whim? Besides, we're celebrating!"

"More sleep," Nellie laughs.

"More sleep!" Charlie repeats, except with ten times more energy.

Nellie leans forward and pecks him in the cheek, if only to ease his discomfort. He knows that she's not a physical person at all, but they've adapted towards each other over the past years, with Charlie holding himself back most of the time and Nellie occasionally learning to show love through gentle touches. Still, even after _three years_, Nellie feels somewhat… insufficient. Like Charlie's still holding himself back. Maybe that's why Charlie's so outwardly energetic every time he talks to her—because he can't express his energy through physical contact, and so he has to let it out constantly through his behavior. But try as she might, Nellie still can't open herself beyond a chaste kiss.

Charlie grabs both her hands suddenly, jerking her out of her thoughts as he whirls her around so they she's facing him. "I love you, you know?"

Nellie looks steadily up into his eyes. She genuinely loves him and would never want to hurt him… but even after three years, she doesn't feel comfortable with his contact.

But it's been three years. _Three years._

"I love you too."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Happy Thanksgiving break! I had a brief amount of time free this weekend to chug out another chapter, so here's an long-expected update. Sorry to all of you who have been waiting, but I'll be studying the rest of the week to catch up in the classes that I'm failing in :(_

_Keith was the name of another Glee Project contestant from "Episode 0: The Final 14" who did not make it onto the show (though he did reach the top 28). He took a picture with Lindsay and posted it on his Twitter with the subtitle "Now I can say that I've met a famous person" or something._


	62. Aching In My Heart III

Long-distance relationships suck.

"_Yo, this is Bryce's phone. Sorry, I'm probably in the middle of a show choir practice, so an email or text message will probably be the best way to contact me. I'm usually available before 7am and after 11:30pm. Leave your contact information and I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible."_

Marissa hangs up before the voicemail beep can sound and sighs in frustration.

The thing is, this long-distance relationship isn't even that much of a distance; Carmel is about fifteen minutes from Lima. It's really not that far of a journey. But Vocal Adrenaline's Sectionals is this weekend, so, as the male lead, Bryce hasn't had much time for the past two weeks to contact Marissa.

Well, he's made four Skype calls. The first one was past midnight and Marissa had already been asleep by then; she called his phone the next morning an hour before his morning practice and they'd talked for maybe fifteen minutes as he drove to school. The third call had yet again been almost an hour after midnight, and it was obvious that he was making a huge effort to stay awake.

The fourth call, done yesterday night, he'd passed out ten minutes in. It had actually been sort of funny: his head kept dipping forward until he finally crashed headfirst into the laptop screen.

It was cute, how much an effort he was making… but maybe he isn't ready for a relationship at this stage in his life. It's true that most of his time is being consumed by preparation for Sectionals, so he can't help it that he can't spend much time with her. In his sheepish conversations when he's apologized for falling asleep on her, he's promised that he'll have a lot more time after the competition. But there's still Regionals after Sectionals, and then Nationals after Regionals. No matter when they meet, there's always another competition up the road that will eventually suck away all of Bryce's time.

Marissa doesn't think she's ready for that kind of relationship. Maybe if they'd developed a bit more of a connection, but really? They've only been dating a couple weeks. She doesn't know Bryce well at all. They've gone on two official dates, a smattering of moments together, had a couple long Skype calls, and have made it Facebook official. That's it. If she'd been dating him for, what, a year, or maybe a couple months, she could accept the excuse that he had another important commitment. Even now, with a couple-week relationship under their belt, accepting that excuse would be the rational thing to do—IF she truly loved him. If she wanted to keep this relationship.

…

Marissa doesn't think she does.

She'd wanted affection. She'd had it the moment Bryce tried to thumb-wrestle her in the mall, his warm, larger hands cupping her smaller ones. His broad smile, his twinkling eyes. Taking her out clubbing, a date on the river, casual touches. That's what had drawn her to him right away.

But then Vocal Adrenaline got in the way. With show choir practices before and after school accompanied by Sectionals rehearsals after dinner, Bryce is unable to be a physical presence next to her.

Marissa stares down at her phone.

Maybe Bryce has been a part of Vocal Adrenaline so long, he considers this to be a normal relationship. But it's not what Marissa wanted or expected when she'd accepted Bryce's offer to take her out to dinner on the river.

They're… they're not compatible. Due to his commitment to Vocal Adrenaline, he can't give her any more than he's already giving her. And Marissa can't stand to accept any less—she can't even stand what he's giving her now. It's draining on her. It's not what she wanted when she'd committed to this relationship.

After a long, looooong moment of contemplation, of what she should do, of what she should say and how to say it, Marissa finally picks up her phone and dials.

* * *

><p>"Nothing like a good ol' cheeseburger and fries," Ali sighs, sitting back in her chair. The noise of the mall's food court is a simple low buzz around them—hundreds of people doing their own business, hardly daring to mind two teenage sisters escaping from home.<p>

Taryn mumbles an agreement, her mouth filled with food.

"I can't believe you're now officially adult," Ali grins.

Taryn gulps down her mouthful. "Being 18 doesn't mean I'm an adult," she grins, rinsing her mouth with some soda. "It just means I get to do a lot more things legally. People think that suddenly, BAM, I'm a lot more responsible than I was a week ago at 17."

"You already are pretty responsible," Ali says sincerely. It's true; despite having lived with them for only two years, Taryn's already gotten into the habit of maintaining the house when their mother is too overwhelmed with other things.

Like trying to keep Keith from going out and blowing a crap-ton of money "living life to the fullest," in his words. Or "wasting your father's stipend," as their mother puts it.

"Thanks." Taryn sucks the last drops of diet coke up through her straw noisily. "So, do you think we should—"

"Shoot!" a guy yells from behind them.

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" a girl squeals at the same time. Ali wheels around slightly and spots the sandy-haired boy who just yelled; a blonde girl sitting across from him just spilled a milkshake all over their table and both are trying to mop up the mess with maybe three napkins.

Ali grabs the handful of napkins out of her bag and shoves them in his direction. "Here you go!"

The bespectacled guy eyes her in slight surprise. "Uh, thanks," he mutters, accepting her offering and wiping up the sugary mess. As Ali and Taryn grab their trash and quickly evacuate, the guy finds a five dollar bill hidden within the napkins. "Hey, wait! You left—"

"Get another drink!" Ali calls as Taryn pushes her along, making their escape.

Taryn giggles as they race down the mall as if running away from the scene of a crime. "How'd you pull that one off?"

Ali whoops, throwing her hands into the air and letting Taryn steer her. "I have a couple random bills just lying around in the bottom of my bag for occasions like that."

"Five dollars," Taryn whistles.

"Well, it looked like they were on a date," Ali shrugs. "At least none of it landed in his lap."

They round a corner and finally decide it's safe enough to stop running. Taryn sits on the knee-high boundary of an indoor fountain to rest momentarily. "Think we should head home soon?"

Ali purses her lips. If they get home and Keith is still there having a row with her mother… Well, Taryn can't help but try to mediate, or at least tell them to use calm, diplomatic voices. The problem is, since she's not biologically related to any of them, her efforts to "butt in" usually sets Keith off. "Let's stay a bit longer."

"Most of the stores have closed down for the day," Taryn points out.

Ali glances around for any sort of momentary distraction, no matter how short. Randomly, she spots a large article on a poster board and wheels herself toward it. Her interest spikes as she gets close enough to read it. "Hey Taryn!" she says excitedly. "You should use your new powers as a legal adult to do this!"

Taryn looks at her skeptically. "No, I am not going to buy cigarettes or a lottery ticket or porn—"

Ali wheels around towards Taryn in horror. "WHAT? No! No, Taryn, come over here and check this out."

Taryn acquiesces, inspects the board. "Genetic testing?" she responds curiously and somewhat hesitantly.

"Yeah, haven't you ever wondered who your parents might be?"

Taryn looks down at Ali uncertainly. "Really, I was just going to wait until I graduated from high school…"

"You've never really, _really_ wondered?" Ali presses. "Com'on, Taryn, you've never thought to contact your biological parents?"

Taryn seems to draw into herself at this statement. "No."

Ali exhales slowly. "I've always wondered who my father was…"

"Didn't your dad build those ramps for you last year?" Taryn asks in confusion, shaking herself out of her withdrawn stupor.

"Yeah, Keith's biological dad. He… uh, he still stuck around for a couple years even though I obviously wasn't his child," Ali mumbles quietly. "But my _father_, my biological father… Mom never talked about him. Ever."

Taryn quietly leans down and gives Ali a lasting hug. When she stands up again, she grabs Ali's hand and says, "I could try to submit your DNA along with mine."

* * *

><p>Mike zips up his jeans in awkward silence. "Tina," he finally says. "I love you, you know?"<p>

Tina doesn't say anything. She lies on her side, facing the wall. Her black hair is strewn around her bare shoulders, which glow a pale orange in the light of the setting sun.

She's so beautiful.

"I was drunk," Mike tries again. "I don't remember… but I swear, you're the only one I'll ever truly love." His mind drifts back to the OneRepublic song that the New Directions sang for Sectionals. Was it only last week?

Tina's shoulder moves slightly.

Mike continues, expressing his emotion through their Sectionals song.

_I swear it's you that my heart beats for… And it ain't gonna stop._

Tina's body begins to tremble.

"Tina…" Mike begs, crawling back onto her bed on his elbows and knees. Tina shrinks into herself as he crawls over her and bends down, allowing his bare chest to rest gently on her back. The skin-on-skin contact sends little tingles of electricity racing through his body and his breathing speeds up. Despite his status as a football jock, despite all the late night high school parties he's been to, he's always refrained from sex; from the day he began speaking, his Asian parents have hammered the stance that he should save sex for his _soulmate_ into his head.

And… he might… he _just_ might… feel like Tina is his soulmate.

His chest is still pressed against her warm, shuddering back… and Mike realizes that Tina's crying. Tiny little sobs that no one would know about unless they were actually touching her body, or hovering two inches above her head, desperately mumbling sweet words and professions of love.

And the entire time, Mike can't help but think: what happens if she doesn't feel the same way?

The garage door begins to open.

Mike jumps to his feet frantically. His own parents are conservative about public displays of affection, but Tina's Chinese mother is incredibly strict about any sort of PDA beyond hand holding. "Shoot! Tina!"

Tina doesn't even move.

Mike scrambles on the floor of her room, looking for his shirt. He can't find it in the dim evening light and time is running out… "Tina!"

Her shoulder quakes again.

Giving up, Mike jumps to his feet. "Tina, I love you," he whispers one last time slipping out her bedroom door half-naked.

* * *

><p>When Lily Mae returns to the food court table… Shanna and Cameron are no longer there.<p>

That isn't much of a problem, since Shanna's sitting at the next table over.

Lily Mae glances between the two tables. "What happened?"

Shanna blushes slightly. "I, uh, knocked over the milkshake we were sharing."

Lily Mae glances under the table; sure enough, Shanna's sitting on her hands. "Too much gesticulating while talking, right?"

Shanna laughs feebly. "Yeah… though you know what happened after I spilled the shake? God bless her soul, this girl in a wheelchair right next to us, she gave us five dollars and ran away!"

Lily Mae raises an eyebrow. "She… what?"

Cameron saunters back to them, a milkshake with three straws sticking out the top in his hand. "She gave us enough money to buy another drink, hidden in a handful of napkins, and her friend wheeled her away before we knew it," he says, a similarly bewildered look on his face. "But really, I couldn't just use that money, so I paid it forward."

"Random Acts of Kindness, eh?" Lily Mae comments. "Interesting."

Both she and Cameron slide into seats beside Shanna, leaning forward conspiratorially and occasionally stealing sips from the milkshake.

"So, what's the plan?"

* * *

><p>The last thing Marissa is expecting is for Bryce to pick up.<p>

"Hey, babe," he grins. "What's up?"

Her carefully constructed speech falls to pieces. He should be in practice right now. Vocal Adrenaline's Sectionals is in a couple days. He shouldn't have been near his phone, and it should have gone to voicemail, and she would have left a long and heartfelt message, and he probably would have called back but she would let it go to voicemail and listen to it later and see just how badly he wants his relationship to work.

Her breathing's getting labored. She can't do this. It's too much. But he might…

"Mars?" Bryce asks. "Are you okay?"

Marissa jumps. Nobody's called her Mars since… well, she really doesn't like the nickname. It doesn't sound anything like Marissa, really, and the only person she'd ever let call her that was… Cameron.

No, she's not okay. She… she…

She hasn't been this emotionally strained since Cameron started growing distant. Since Cameron moved away and left her on her own.

"Hey, Bryce," she answers weakly. "Don't you usually have practice now?"

"Three-minute water break." He pauses. "Well, now, it's two minutes. Are you doing okay?"

Emotion after emotion washes over her. If Bryce has a limited amount of time, he might not dare to interrupt her. Should she just kick her plan into action now, or should she wait until Bryce leaves and call back in ten minutes and proceed with her voicemail plan as intended?

She draws in a tiny, nervous breath. It's so tiny that she hardly gets any oxygen with it, so she inhales shakily again. It's loud enough for Bryce to hear, and concern drops back into his voice. "Mars? Is something wrong?"

Her mind is a storm of emotions, but in the midst of it all, she finally realizes… she's not ready for this. For this raging tempest of feelings that she can't sort through, that she can barely deal with without falling apart like she is now.

"Bryce…" she whispers. Then, a bit louder, in what she hopes is a normal, casual voice. "Bryce, I…"

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_Bahaha, CLIFFHANGER! I'm evil._

_I'm just about to dive into a mad scramble of exams... so of course, I spent a few precious hours this weekend NOT studying and writing this instead. Because I really wanted to get to those point. It sort of bugs me that it's so rushed (in the timeline of this story, Marissa and Bryce have only been dating for three weeks, I think)... but then again, Marissa might just be a girl who needs more frequent contact. Hmm. I don't know. Drop me a review and tell me what girls want in early-stage relationships (you know, since I'm a guy.)_

_So I know I haven't been updating as frequently... but I still appreciate getting reviews! Thanks so much to** Natrona S.K and** **Saphia** for her (their?) amazingly long reviews, **littlehoneypot**, **LovelyChaster**, **PercabethFanatic** for reviewing almost every chapter they've read since the beginning of time, and **wires and waves** for dropping in with a huge review._

_This is fanfiction, guys. I really have no idea how much genetic testing costs and how long it takes and such, but for the purposes of this story, let's just say that just for one week there was a health fair at the mall and they were doing it for free for select people over 18 and matching up results to people registered with the company. Ugh. I've only realized how incredibly improbable that scenario is. Oh well. With my writer's license, I CAN DO ANYTHING._

_ BTWs, check out my story "_Electric Shock_" about little!Gleeks with superpowers!_

__Alright, back to studying.__


	63. Cat and Mouse I

**Featured songs:  
><strong>"Bend and Break" by Keane

* * *

><p>Blake glances around yet another time. Their water break is just ending and he still hasn't caught a glimpse of Aylin.<p>

It seems like Aylin is not at practice.

And that's bad.

Because being a member of Vocal Adrenaline? It's not like most high school clubs, where you can play hooky if you feel like it. Where you can stay home if you're sick or would prefer to join your friends after school for a Borderlands party or want to play soccer.

No; with Vocal Adrenaline, it's a full-time job. You are paid with a resume entry and a fantastic recommendation letter that will send you to practically any performing arts school in the _world_. Vocal Adrenaline is pretty much the top of the pyramid when it comes to show choir, with National golds for five years in a row so far and International Top 50 standings.

Part of the job means that you never, _ever_ miss a practice unless you're literally puking up a kidney. Or dead. Sports, video games, even academics are all tossed to the wayside in Carmel High's effort to churn out America's best singers, dancers, and theatrical actors.

That's Aylin's dream. She's getting out of this tiny Ohio city and striking it big in Los Angeles or New York or even Chicago, dammit. Anywhere but stinkin' Ohio. And Blake wants to get out too, but he's not so concerned about performing arts. Acting, yes. Singing, yeah, probably. Dancing… eh, maybe. But his grades are above average and he's been keeping them that way even though he's been spending huge amounts of time in Vocal Adrenaline. He figures he'll get any old college in the normal way—with a good balance of show choir, academics, and sports.

Really, he could do without Vocal Adrenaline and he'd be fine. Getting into Vocal Adrenaline is a pretty good recommendation too (and he could twist the truth a little bit and say he left off his own accord).

But Aylin had been feeling rather isolated and lonely in Vocal Adrenaline. You don't _make_ friends in Vocal Adrenaline (unless you're Sunshine—the girl just exudes a bright cheerfulness that draws people like moths to light). And Blake wasn't going to let his girl down… so he joined. And though she'd protested and told him that he didn't have to feel sorry for her, he still caught the joyful sparkle in her eye. That had been enough to convince him to stay in Vocal Adrenaline (at least, for this year).

The point is, Aylin's not here and Blake's worried. Vocal Adrenaline means the world to Aylin; it's her ticket out. Blake, on the other hand, wouldn't care about getting kicked out.

Their water break has ended and everybody's collecting back up on stage. Lindsay's already up there, bossing underlings around and getting them to stand in their appropriate spots behind her. Abraham and Sunshine and McKynleigh are somewhere in the back, hidden by rows and rows of background dancers.

Aylin is not here. And if she's not here, she's probably at her house.

Blake leaves the auditorium.

And, as he walks out the auditorium doors and through the halls, he passes Bryce.

* * *

><p>"Bryce, I… I think we should just be friends."<p>

That one sentence throws Bryce for a loop. "What? Why?" He immediately hates himself for asking—what is he, three years old?

Marissa draws in a shaky breath. "I don't think we… You're always in Vocal Adrenaline."

"I'm not now," Bryce defends. And it's true. The water break is over. Dancers are gathering back up onto the stage… Lindsay's probably already there. Maybe even Giselle. Nobody's seen Giselle recently, but she might be skulking around the dark corners of the auditorium, waiting for Lindsay to trip up so that she can march right back up onto the stage and show everybody how it's _really_ done. The point is, he _should_ be on stage, _leading_ Vocal Adrenaline in practices. But he's not. He's here in the hallways, unable to comprehend why Marissa is suddenly pulling this on him when they've only been going out for two, three weeks. "I'm here, talking to you, while everybody else in Vocal Adrenaline is practicing and wondering where I am."

As if to emphasize this point, a base passes by him on his way out of the auditorium. "Break time's over," the base calls as he walks down the hallway. "Better get back on stage."

"Sure, man," Bryce calls back. "Marissa, I have to get back on stage—but at the same time, I know what you have to say is important."

"I…" Marissa can't seem to find the words. Bryce finds his mind wondering what Coach Goolsby is thinking now. One never misses Vocal Adrenaline practices unless they're having a heart attack. (It happened once before five years ago, back when they _didn't_ have water breaks and did six straight hours of practice.) That base that just left? Maybe his mom's having a heart attack or something. If he doesn't come back in under half an hour, he's out.

And since Bryce himself is the lead, if he doesn't get back within five minutes, he's out of his position.

And that's what it comes down to in the end: does he consider his lead position in Vocal Adrenaline more important, or his rather short relationship with Marissa?

The answer is obvious.

"Marissa, I get it," Bryce finally says when Marissa has spent almost another thirty seconds starting and abruptly ending sentences. "I like you, Mars. I genuinely _like_ you. And I thought that would be enough. I knew you were in New Directions and I still went ahead and asked you out. And you knew I was in Vocal Adrenaline and that, the week before Sectionals, I wouldn't have a lot of time."

Marissa falls silent.

"I'm sorry that we might not seem compatible," Bryce continues. "I thought that what we had would be enough to carry us through a long-distance relationship, even though it's only an eleven-mile drive from Lima to Carmel and you aren't required to be practicing ten hours a day." He'd thought he'd finally found somebody who could live with his kind of schedule.

"Bryce…"

Turns out she was just another girl who wasn't mature enough to look at everything before she jumped into a relationship. That kind of girl… isn't ready for a real relationship yet. "You knew that my schedule isn't so flexible now, but that I could and I_ will_ make time for you after Sectionals because you mean that much to me, because I really value our relationship even after only fifteen days, and I am willing to put in all the effort I can from my end to make what we have _work_."

"Bryce…"

He isn't looking for a relationship that relies on physical proximity or superficial words or constant professions of love… the relationship that Bryce wants is one in which they simply enjoy each other's presence. That's it. "I'm sorry that my lifestyle doesn't meet your expectations, but you knew what my lifestyle was before. At least, I assumed you knew, and when you said yes, I assumed you accepted those terms and would be willing to carry on a relationship on those terms."

Marissa's voice is shaking now. Bryce feels a hint of regret, but he has to say what he has to say. She should have known. He'd thought she'd known.

"Bryce… I…"

Well, she hadn't. Neither had Lindsay. McKynleigh hadn't been ready for that either. Emily came close, but then she went to visit her cousins in New York and came back a completely different girl.

And now Marissa.

This is his fault too, though. He shouldn't jump into these relationships right away either. But what sort of girl responds positively to the statement: "_Sorry, girl, but my job takes preference over you"_?

He finally stops. Waits for Marissa to say something.

She doesn't. He can hear her breathing, hard and filled to the brink with heavy emotion. This is exactly how Lindsay reacted, though the girl had come with a load of emotional baggage as well. Plus he had told her in person, and when she had acted in the worst way possible, his reaction mirrored hers… it had been one of the most emotionally draining breakups ever.

"Just friends, then," Bryce concludes.

Marissa murmurs an agreement.

"Okay then. I'll see you around. Sectionals in three days, you know?"

Marissa murmurs a positive again.

"Bye." Without waiting for a reply, he snaps his phone shut—just as McKynleigh peeps around the corner.

"Coach is spitting mad," she reports. "You better get ready for a word-beating."

Bryce nods silently, pockets his phone, and walks over to her.

McKynleigh shrugs as she falls into step next to him. "We're so close to Sectionals, I think you're fine till then. Too late to replace you now. But you better watch your back and be on your best behavior after that, okay Bryce?"

Bryce nods. "Thanks, Miki."

His and McKynleigh's breakup had been mutual. She had not clunked him over the head with all her emotional baggage. She had severed their relationship calmly; they had parted on good terms and they're still good friends today… so of course, hers is the relationship Bryce misses the most. The mutual attraction that they had felt without excess drama or need for extra attention—that's what McKynleigh had brought to the table during her six-week relationship with Bryce.

McKynleigh pats him on the back and lets him enter the auditorium first.

"And our missing lead returns! Congratulations, Bryce, you have earned the team an extra hour of practice—I expect to see all of you at 5:30 tomorrow morning…"

* * *

><p>Just before McKynleigh can enter the auditorium after Bryce, a hand grabs her arm. "Miki!"<p>

McKynleigh whirls around and gasps. "Max!"

Her cowboy-stalker is standing two feet away… and she hadn't even seen him. She'd been walking with Bryce. What if he assumes…

"Max, I told you—these next few days are _not_ a good time. I'm in the middle of practice!" she tries to jerk her arm out of his grasp, but he keeps holding on, a determined look on his face.

"Can't you take five minutes?" he pleads in his cute Southern drawl. Oh god, she's missed that voice. Heck, she used to have that accent too.

"No—"

"Where's McKynleigh?" Lindsay's voice cuts across the interior of the auditorium.

Crap. If Lindsay comes searching and sees her with her 'cowboy-stalker'… McKynleigh twists her arm around to grab Maxfield's shirt and pull him off to a small alcove in the hallway, hidden from the auditorium doors by a couple lockers. "Maxfield, I have three minutes before they come searching."

Which is not really true… she's just a background dancer, and Lindsay's voice naturally carries over long distances. But she could do with a little urgency to shorten a conversation with Maxfield.

"Goodness," Maxfield says softly. "It sounds more like a prison than a show choir."

"It's more like a full-time job," McKynleigh says offhandedly. "Now what do you want?"

She winces inwardly at that. She hadn't meant to be so brunt.

"I've missed you, Miki," Maxfield murmurs, a hand coming up towards her face. McKynleigh remembers years of him brushing her bangs out of her eyes (back when she had a mop of dark hazel hair) so he could _really _look at her "_for who you really are, without those masks to hide behind."_

Except she's much different than she was two years ago. For one, she adopted a pixie cut the moment she arrived in Ohio and has maintained that ever since, so she has no bangs to sweep away. Most of all, though… she's a different person now. Or, more exactly, she's finally come to accept who she truly is, and all the time back in Tennessee, back when she was growing up with and getting into a relationship with and preparing to commit the rest of her life to Maxfield… that girl had been a mask.

She instinctively flinches back when Maxfield's hand gets too close. "It's been a while," she replies neutrally.

Maxfield's hand drops away and he looks hurt. McKynleigh feels a pang of guilt. The girl back in Tennessee might have been a mask, but the emotions, the feelings she had for Maxfield… those had been real (to some extent).

"It's been forever," Maxfield responds, his voice barely above a whisper. "And the entire time, Miki… I've waited for you."

McKynleigh looks at the ground. She can't look at him anymore. "I… I need to go." She slips past Maxfield, heading towards the auditorium.

At the last second, Maxfield's strong hand closes around her wrist, a grip so firm that it almost hurts. "Miki, I love you!"

She tries to pull away, but his grip grows even tighter and a sharp pain twinges its way up her arm and it _hurts_ both physically and emotionally because it reminds her of the last time...

She shoves him away and quickly snatches her wrist back, and though it hurts even more, at least it gets her appendage out of his grip, and that means she's safe. "Don't _touch_ me!" she snaps, holding her wrist to her chest. "Don't _ever_ grab me like that again!"

Maxfield is instantly repentant. "McKynleigh, I didn't mean to—"

"We'll talk next week," McKynleigh interrupts. "I told you before and I'll say it again: I have a major competition coming up this weekend. I'll have more time next week. Goodbye, Maxfield." Without waiting for a reply, McKynleigh almost runs into the auditorium.

* * *

><p>Maxfield watches as McKynleigh disappears into the auditorium—the one with music and layers and layers of harmonized and background voices coming out of it.<p>

_If only I don't bend and break, I'll meet you on the other side, I'll meet you in the light…  
>If only I don't suffocate, I'll meet you in the morning when you wake.<em>

With those words, Maxfield turns around and slowly walks out of the school.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Rant<em>

_There's always two sides to a story. Two differing perspectives. Don't villianize a person if you haven't heard their side of the story yet._

_S__o I took the easy route out with Maryce. Shoot me. There should be plenty of happy campers out there anyways, right? __Meanwhile, I finally brought more development to McKynleigh's side of the story. Which makes me happy. By the way, has anybody seen Dani and Ali's Youtube video? Whoa. I'm definitely going to have to switch things up... ;)_

_Happy end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it day! 12-21-2012. _


	64. Discontinued

If you don't want to hear about my sob story, skip down to the bolded sentence below.

I started this story spontaneously after watching the first couple episodes of "Glee Project" season 1. And look where it's at now: nearly 200,000 words and over 1200 reviews. It's been a blast, getting so much positive feedback from a piece of fanfiction like this... but unfortunately, the road that I'm writing ends here.

I haven't run out of ideas. I actually have at least seven pages of notes for different paths planned out for Damian and Lindsay, Marissa and Cameron and Shanna, Sunshine and Abraham, Nellie and Michael and Sam, Blake and Aylin and Charlie, McKynleigh and Maxfield, and many other characters.

The problem is professional school. I'm sort of in a love/hate relationship with it, but when it comes down to it, at least one exam every week for an entire semester means that I can only slack off for one or two days, max, before I have to go back to cramming until 3 in the morning.

I also have to admit that I'm a bit burnt out with this story and would much rather spend my time writing on other subjects - something new, something fresh, something _supernatural_. I have a bit of a penchant for the supernatural :)

So I'm done with "Glee Project: Live Out Loud!" However, this is my form of apology to all of you for abandoning this story: **drop a review and leave me a way to contact you, and I'll send you my outline**. Sign in with your account when you do a review and I'll PM my notes to you. Or, if you don't have an account, leave an email address and I'll email a Word document to you. Though beware of Fanfiction and its deleting shenanigans; format your email address as word period numbers at yahoo dot com. So an example would be casanova.123 at yahoo dot com. Get it?

It's been great writing for you all over the past one and a half years.

~ inkbender ~

P.S. In the meanwhile, I am still writing other stories. Supernatural stuff, remember? There's **Electric Shock**, featuring only Glee characters from the first and second season. From childhood to the teenage years, the superpowered Gleeks take everything the world - and each other - has to throw at them. A Glee-oriented prequel to the book "Michael Vey: Prisoner of Cell 25" by Richard Paul Evans.

And a possible upcoming story that will be told from Tina's POV, who needs more love after being neglected for the better part of three seasons. It will place directly after "Wheels" from the first season - you hear that? _Only first season characters!_ In which Artie suddenly regains the use of his legs after blowing up at Tina for faking her stutter. And so the world as Tina knows it goes to hell, all within the space of 24 hours. Supernatural throwback fic inspired by "Darker Than Black."


End file.
